


Endless Void

by zurimadison



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curse Breaking, F/M, Fluff, France (Country), Friends to Lovers, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Luxury, Mystery, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zurimadison/pseuds/zurimadison
Summary: "My name is Hermione Granger, and I have a strong suspicion that I just died. That seems like the kind of notion about which I should be more definitive, but the last few seconds of my life as I remember it were a blur, and it's difficult to examine the details."Hermione and Ron are talented Curse-Breakers for Gringotts, called in by the Auror department to investigate a luxury resort with suspected illegal activities. There's just one little problem: they need to infiltrate undercover, posing as a celebrity couple in love and on vacation together. And they're not in love. Of course not. They're just friends.AU Romione, written first person Hermione POV
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 72
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I am hitting pause on The Best Medicine to explore this little story that's been in my head for quite some time. Some fellow Romione friends convinced me to write what I was motivated to write, and here we are! I fully intend to go back to The Best Medicine... consider it more like a break between season 1 and season 2.
> 
> In this fic, I want to explore more of Hermione's Gryffindor side- I can sometimes get so stuck on her being such an intellectual that I forget about her other characteristics. I am also challenging myself to write in first person... and challenge is the right word, because I don't think I'm much like Hermione. I haven't written all of this yet, but I think it'll land somewhere around 5 or 6 chapters in the end.
> 
> So, let me know if you like it! Open to hear where I might have missed, but remember to be kind! Thanks for reading everyone, don't let the Sunday Scaries get ya down. :)

My name is Hermione Granger, and I have a strong suspicion that I just died.

That seems like the kind of notion about which I should be more definitive, but the last few seconds of my life as I remember it were a blur, and it's difficult to examine the details. The tale of how I got to this point is thrilling, but to do the full narrative justice I'd have to go back almost ten years.

After helping to save the wizarding world in the war against Voldemort, I returned to Hogwarts for my final year of school. My two best friends, Ron and Harry, decided against joining me, so in hindsight, I honestly don't know what I was expecting. I wanted a break from responsibility (as much as someone like me can want something like that), and I entered that final year hopeful for the respite. I was desperate to shake off the trauma I'd lived through. I suppose I thought I could recapture some of the innocence from only a few years prior, back when I was still astounded by the fact that magic was real and that I was a witch. When talking portraits and moving staircases enraptured my very soul; when I made my first friends, and we spent our days brewing potions and watching people fly on broomsticks. It was simple. Beautiful.

My last year at school was fine. That's all I can say about it. It wasn't special, or great, or terrible. It was just... fine. I think the innocent magic of Hogwarts as I knew it was forever gone. Parts of the castle were still destroyed from the war, and only half the normal amount of students attended. Some died in the war, some were mourning, and some just decided to drop out. It was an odd, strained, kind of year. I had moments of joy, fleeting tastes of that old feeling I was chasing, but it never lasted long.

I realized that I could no longer ignore real life, and after graduation I was more than ready to move on. Ron's brother Bill pulled some strings to get him a job as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, and when I graduated a year later, I joined him in that role. It wasn't very hard to convince the bank that I would be a good asset to their team. There's the whole war hero thing, but I also like to think I had a pretty impressive resume on my own. I only interviewed twice before they decided to accelerate the usually exhaustive process and give me an offer. Ron, who'd been interviewed no less than seven times, despite his connections with Bill, grumbled about it for weeks.

Up until this point I'd been relatively sheltered from the wizarding tabloids by the safety of being in school, but when I accepted my new job after graduation, it seemed I was the only thing that anyone was talking about. Everyone around me (except for Ron) questioned my career choice. _Did you hear the most brilliant mind in a generation took a job with Gringotts? What a shame, Hermione Granger is working as a Curse-Breaker. She could have been a lawyer, or a researcher. She could have made a real difference, joining the Aurors like Harry Potter._

Simply put, I'd become very disillusioned with our Ministry. The types of people who worked there, the outdated and inequitable laws, how easily they turned on Harry, how quickly they'd been overthrown by the Death Eaters. I suppose the right thing to do would have been to roll up my sleeves and help rebuild it, but… Have you ever felt so exhausted that your bones ache? My emotional currency was spent. The idea of jumping in to work for the same Ministry that had made every mistake under the sun, often to the detriment of my own safety... I just couldn't do it. I thought I'd take a role elsewhere, even if it was Gringotts, which I also knew had its fair share of corruption and deceit, and still do my best to make a difference.

Still, I suppose that doesn't fully address the speculation, as I could have likely been hired in a different department at Gringotts, like Goblin-Human Relations or the Banking Legal Services. I honestly did put some thought into it, especially as the gossip swirled around me. I chose Curse-Breaking for a couple of reasons. The first, and most important, is that even though I didn't want to catch dark wizards for a living, I wasn't ready for a desk job. Living through a war made the idea of settling into such a sedimentary role difficult to swallow, even for me. I know I wasn't famous for my physical prowess, but I wasn't ready to acknowledge that my life could be reduced so quickly, and before I'd even technically left my teenage years.

The second reason, I'm not afraid to admit, was Ron. He's my best friend, and the idea of working together was really appealing. I also wasn't exactly known for my ability to make friends. I thought if I simply HAD to transition to a normal job, like what was expected of me, I would rather it be with someone who could relate to my constant post-war restlessness. He helped me feel like I wasn't venturing as far out of my comfort zone.

The good news for the academic in me, is that I learned many new things about Gringotts and Curse-Breaking in the decade that followed. Gringotts is in an international company with branches all over the world. They employ tens of thousands of magical beings, and their lines of business extend way beyond banking. They are experts in security, art curation, rare collections, appraisals, metal work, and bespelling artifacts, among many other services, including, of course, Curse-Breaking.

They are so well known for Curse-Breaking, in fact, that we are often contracted out to various Ministries and other companies for extended periods of time to assist with specific tasks. In the years I'd been working there, I'd been deployed on jobsites from the Pyramids of Giza (a team of archaeologists wanted to excavate a tomb) to a mansion in Milan (to break into the high security vault of a suspected mob wizard) to old Deatheater haunts all over London (there were more bunkers than we'd originally known, each more curse ridden than the last).

I also spent the last ten years being almost exclusively partnered with Ron. At first, our manager tried us with other partners, and we did our best, we really did. I think we'd already lived through so much together that even I'm convinced we could communicate without talking, and it's hard to compare that to working with a complete stranger. So, we were lucky, because in addition to being partners, it also turned out that we were quite good at the job. I was the brains and he was the brawn, but neither of us lacked common sense or nerve, and really that's all you need to be good at Curse-Breaking.

Of course, I suppose I shouldn't tout our successes too much, seeing as I'm, you know, dead.

The main inciting action to this tale took place about a week ago...

* * *

I stepped across the sparring mat slowly, eying Ron carefully as he circled around me. He was drenched in sweat, his red hair sticking to his forehead and shirt soaked through. I knew I wasn't much better off, feeling the beads of salty liquid slowly roll down my back. I didn't dare to do anything about it as I took another step, mirroring Ron's movements. He shot me a cocky grin before making his move.

I dodged the punch and tried to uppercut into his stomach, but he stepped to the side and tugged on my arm, using my momentum against me and causing me to crash into the mat. I rolled to my back as I fell, slipping my leg behind his and bringing him quickly to the floor with me. He let out a surprised burst of air and pushed against my legs, which were wrapped in a hold around his neck and shoulder.

"You're getting better," he grunted, to which I grinned, although I wasn't sure he could see it. Curse-Breakers didn't need to know combat as extensively as Aurors, but we did still have our own training facility at the Gringotts headquarters in London. We had to maintain a high level of fitness, since the job inevitably involved a fair amount of running, and learn the basics of hand to hand combat for those just-in-case scenarios. Ron and I usually liked to end our workouts with a few minutes of sparring, and for my part I enjoyed the feeling of being able to protect myself a bit.

Ron pushed his wrist through my leg lock and forced his arm out, breaking the hold I had on him. Before I could react, he was on his feet, twisting my arm behind my back as my face was forced into the mat. "Not good enough though." Although I couldn't see his face, I could easily imagine the exact smug grin that I was sure tugged at his lips.

I swung my legs around again, using the leverage to turn my shoulder into his hold on my arm. I used my free hand to push my upper body up as he stumbled over the sudden change in my positioning, and tangled our legs together, utilizing his unbalance to bring him to the floor again. Unfortunately, on his way down, one of his flailing elbows jabbed into my stomach hard, knocking the wind out of me. I wheezed and laid back on the mat just seconds after he landed hard, groaning.

Neither of us moved as we laid side by side, panting on the floor. "I think it's fair to say that's an ungraceful tie." I finally told him, and I could feel his deep laugh rumble pleasantly through my own chest.

"Alright then," he agreed, standing and helping me to my feet. I hobbled over to my water bottle and took a deep drink as I threw a spare towel at him. He rubbed it over his face as we walked to the locker room. He'd grown a full beard over the past couple of years, the wiry hairs a bit more auburn than his orange locks, which were trimmed short on the sides and longer on top.

"What're you up to tonight?" I opened the door and held it for him before following him through, the familiar musty smell hitting me square in the face. Gringotts, still being largely run by Goblins, didn't have gender separated changing rooms. I wasn't sure the species understood the point. Given that it was past seven on Friday, it was empty aside from us, and we easily maneuvered through the benches to our respective lockers.

"Gotta date," Ron answered as he fiddled with the manual combination lock. We didn't bring our wands into the training room, not wanting to break or misplace them.

Despite the rapid speculation, Ron and I had never been romantically involved. I'd thought maybe once, long ago… But as we'd grown into our jobs and our partnership, those emotions faded. We were simply best friends. We talked about everything- our families, our love lives, our dreams, ambitions, nightmares, fears. I knew him better than I knew anyone in the world. Even if I did feel _that way_ about him, I wouldn't risk our friendship over it. Not in a million years.

"You're not going to make the mistake again of taking her to Macdougal's, are you?" I teased, ducking as he threw his towel at me. MacDougal's was a dive bar, though Ron really had once taken a less-than-impressed date there, much to my amusement.

I opened my own locker and pulled off my sweaty shirt, leaving me in my leggings and sports bra. I used to feel significantly more prudish in this situation, but after so many years I've grown used to the routine. There's not a lot of privacy in Curse-Breaking. Assignments were usually even worse than this. The locker door obscured my vision of Ron, so when I finally pulled out my towel and shut it, I nearly jumped out of my skin to see him standing on the other side. "Jees, Ron!"

"Serves you right," he informed me, and stepped around to go to the showers. He was also shirtless, and I'm not ashamed to say I admired the freckled expanse of his back as he walked away. Ron was as tall and thin as ever, but he'd somehow managed to outgrow the lankiness. He was muscled, but still lean, and moved with the confidence only age can bring. Well, age and a professionally designed physical training program, I suppose. "When you're done staring," he called lazily as he turned into a shower stall.

"If I'm staring," I returned his banter, though I could feel my cheeks heat slightly, "it's out of pure astonishment that you've coerced a date." I heard his deep chuckle again and grinned myself, crossing the room to enter another shower stall. I pulled off the rest of my clothes and turned on the water, sighing at its blissful warmth on my sweaty and sore muscles. "So who is she?"

"Met her at The Witch's Brew," Ron answered above the sounds of our showers, naming the local magical coffee shop. "Violetta. She's visiting from Italy and needs someone to show her around London."

"And you graciously volunteered?"

"What can I say, I'm a true gentleman." I snorted loudly and heard him turn his water off. I was about to answer when a different voice rang through the locker room.

"Weasley. Granger. My office before you leave." The door slammed shut again. That would be our boss, Jennifer Stanton. Like I said, not a lot of privacy in Curse-Breaking.

Conversation forgotten, I rushed through the rest of my shower and changed into jeans and a t shirt, finding Ron waiting by the door when I was done. His hair was still damp, contrasting with his paler than usual face. Jenn didn't usually ask to see us, especially so late on a Friday, so I understood his stress. He nodded ever so slightly as he held the door open, and we silently made our way down the hall, turning into her office.

Her broad frame was sitting behind the desk, head bowed down over a stack of files. The light glinted off her tightly coiled blonde hair, which was cropped to her ears, as she scribbled vigorously. I glanced at Ron, who gave me a strained smile before clearing his throat loudly. Jenn looked up at us, setting her square jaw and leaning back in her chair as Ron and I took the seats opposite her.

"Got a job for you," Jenn started without preamble. "You leave tomorrow."

I saw Ron raise an eyebrow from the corner of my eye. "So soon?" I asked, my interest piqued. It was less than common to be sent on emergency assignments in our role. There wasn't exactly an overabundance of complicated curses that needed to be broken _urgently_. Usually it was a coordinated effort that took at least a couple of weeks to prepare for.

"The Lark Chateau," she answered, jowls wobbling as she nodded. Ron let out a low whistle and I raised my own eyebrows, impressed.

"The European millionaire's club?" Ron inquired. "What do they need?"

"It's not quite as easy as that," Jenn said, handing us each a folder. "We will be working with the British Auror department on this one."

"Really?" I leaned forward in my chair eagerly. "I'm sure they have all kinds of security at the Chateau for the members' possessions. Did an enchantment go haywire? Or maybe the protection spells interacted with each other and corrupted?"

I shot Ron a tiny glare as he stifled a laugh, turning my attention back to Jenn.

"Not exactly, Granger." She surveyed me through heavily lidded eyes. "the Lark Chateau doesn't know we're coming."

"Excuse me?" I stared.

Ron cleared his throat. "What's that now?"

"We're breaking in." A stunned silence met this bold statement.

"Is that... legal?" I asked weakly.

Jenn let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "Usually no, but seeing as the Aurors are on our side, I suppose in this case it is."

I exchanged looks with Ron, reading the slight widening of his eyes. _Barmy_.

"Here's the deal," Jenn spoke again and we both turned to look at her. "The Aurors believe that the man who runs the resort is... involved in something. They tried to send in a team, but their spies couldn't break through the security systems, which, I'm afraid we have to assume-"

"Are the best that money can buy?" Ron supplied dryly. Jenn nodded.

"What's the deal with the owner?" I inquired.

"Leon Fischer," Jenn answered. "His bio is in the folder. Durmstrang alum, early 40s, very rich, very private. He was born into a well known German wizarding family, but has avoided the spotlight for the past couple decades."

"What do the Aurors want him for?" Ron asked.

Jenn sighed. "Honestly, they won't tell me. Say it's need-to-know information, and that our contract is merely to help them get in."

"His younger days are pretty stereotypical for a socialite," I mused, flipping through the information. "He's in tabloids for partying, gambling, and dating a slew of other rich young witches and wizards."

"Disappeared for a few years, then resurfaced with the opening of his high end resort after the war." Ron read aloud. "Paparazzi are always on-site, but can't get inside. Very exclusive getaway for the elite of the wizarding world."

I stared at Jenn, my brain running on overdrive. "This is where we're going?" I held the file up. "We can't just walk up and ask to inspect the place, can we? We'll get turned away at the door. How do the Aurors expect us to get in?"

"Undercover." Jenn grinned at me, her dry sense of humor apparent. "You'll be going as guests, enjoying a week of elaborate living."

"They'll never buy it," Ron scoffed, tossing the folder back on her desk. "We're not exactly nobodies you know. We'll be recognized right away."

"I'm counting on it," Jenn responded.

"We won't be alone, will we?" I inquired, carefully watching Jenn smirk. "Harry and Ginny are going as well?"

"Yup," she nodded. "They are rather more rich and famous than you, so the four of you enjoying a romantic couples weekend should cause quite the frenzy, which will make the story believ-"

"Wait," Ron interrupted loudly, his sky blue eyes open wide. "Couples? We are not a couple. No offense, Mione."

"None taken," I forced out, caught off guard by this bomb drop.

"All the more reason to do it," Jenn explained seriously. "When you two show up acting all lovey dovey, the story of your relationship will shock the media circuit. It will keep the other guests and staff distracted with gossip, and allow you two to focus on your assignment. It's also a convenient excuse to slip away together," she said thoughtfully. "Without anyone becoming suspicious."

We stared at her mad grin, and I really began to hate her warped humor.

"Ok," Ron put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, an exasperated look playing on his features. "Let me get this straight. You're going to pay for us to go to the Lark Chateau, Europe's most exclusive resort for the rich and famous of the wizarding world, with our close personal friends, where we are expected to pretend to be madly in love while secretly breaking into the owner's personal rooms without even knowing what he might be protecting once we get inside?"

"You'll need to be very public about dining, gambling, and attending shows too." Jenn said, seemingly pleased we'd cottoned on so quickly. "Everyone needs to believe you're there on vacation."

"Jenn," I said weakly, knowing that in my discomfort my higher than usual pitch sounded rather like a whine. "You can't be serious. Pick another team. Please. We can't…"

She set her chin on her meaty fist, starting me down. "I don't have the luxury of another celebrity couple on staff, do I? It's you two. Report tomorrow at four am. We need to outfit you both with a week's worth of clothes befitting of your new status." I groaned.

Knowing ourselves dismissed, Ron and I exited her office, moving slowly back to the changing room to get our things.

"Enjoy your date tonight," I told him as we left the building several minutes later, worry settling in my gut like a weight. "It'll be the last one you have for awhile."

"What do you mean?" He asked, glancing at me curiously. "We'll only be gone for a week."

"The tabloids are going to eat this up," I said quietly, shaking my head and avoiding his eyes. "This time tomorrow, every witch in Europe is going to think that we're together, and you'll have a very hard time convincing them otherwise."

I felt guilty about it and a little awkward, which was saying a lot for us. He hitched mid step, swinging his head towards me. I caught his eye and saw the thoughtful expression as he mulled my words over. Then, in true Ron fashion, he shrugged and grinned. "Oh well, that's a problem for tomorrow." He nudged me gently with his shoulder, and I managed a small smile as well, the pre-assignment nerves calming in my stomach a bit.

* * *

"This is my casual outfit?" I asked the woman helping me as I stared at myself in the full length mirror. When I'd arrived at work the following morning, I'd been pulled into an empty office turned dressing room, complete with racks of clothes and a beauty team. They applied potions to my hair and skin, glamored make up on my face, and perfected the gentle curls of my tresses until I looked like a Snapchat filtered version of myself. The entire effect was quite becoming, but rather unsettling as I gazed at my only slightly familiar face. (Yes, I know what Snapchat is. My cousin is obsessed.)

The dress they'd shoved me into was a maxi floral chiffon number with a slit halfway up the thigh and a neckline that would have made my mother blush. "Yes," the woman nodded and pointed to a zipped up luggage bag behind me in the mirror. "We've packed up enough evening gowns to get you through the week, plus clothes for all the activities on your itinerary." Her brown hair was piled on top of her head as she surveyed me again closely, looking exhausted. "Remember, the glamour charms and potions should last for most of the week, so you won't need to reapply them every day. We'll still pack extras for you, just in case."

I nodded. She'd already told me all this, but I suppose I must have struck her as the disagreeable sort. I'd argued with her for hours about the heels she'd tried to make me wear. We'd compromised on two sets of wedges that I had no intention of unpacking and a half dozen pairs of flats that were more expensive than my rent. Each.

I'd also insisted on dresses that allowed me to breathe freely and run or fight. Luckily, or maybe unluckily for me, the seamstress was quite adept with spells to make clothes look more constricting than they actually were. So, despite what looked to me for all the world like an impending wardrobe malfunction of the neckline, I believed her when she said the girls weren't going anywhere unsupervised.

"Thanks," I told her halfheartedly as she nearly pushed me out the door, apparently just as relieved for me to be done as I was.

"We'll have someone deliver the bags. You need to go to the Travel Sector now." And with that, the door clicked shut in my face.

"Still got it," I muttered to myself as I turned down the hall. It was now close to eight in the morning, and my stomach rumbled hungrily.

The Travel Sector was on the far side of the building, but given that it was a Saturday morning I didn't run into anyone until I got there. Jenn, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and a man didn't recognize were all standing around a refreshments table, their voices echoing around the empty hall. I eagerly stepped through the space to join them, happily wrapping a hot scone in a napkin and pouring myself a cup of coffee as I greeted them.

"Hermione," Ginny squealed excitedly, pulling me into a hug. "I'm excited for us to all get away together."

"Hey Ginny," I returned her hug with my free arm. "You look amazing." She was wearing a skin tight purple mini dress that accentuated her athletic form and sky high heels. She'd probably been through the same glamour routine as me, although she seemed infinitely more comfortable with the results than I was.

As though reading my mind, she touched my arm and spoke gently. "I know it's not your usual style, but it's kind of fun to dress up, isn't it?" Her kind eyes set me at ease, and I took a swig of my coffee before nodding gratefully.

"You do realize this is an assignment, right Gin?" Harry asked, smiling down at her fondly.

She flipped her long wavy tresses over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "Yes, yes I know that. But the Lark Chateau! This is going to be so fun."

"I'm inclined to agree with Ginny on this one," Ron said, stepping in to join our small circle. "How often in our lives will we get to go to a millionaire's club on company dime?" I listened to them chatter about all the shows and events while I ate the rest of my scone, grateful for the warmth in my stomach.

"You look really nice, by the way." I nearly choked on my food as I heard Ron's voice roll over me, too low for anyone else to catch.

"Er, thanks Ron," I answered quietly as I scanned his face, surprised by this declaration. The tips of his ears tinged pink. "You do too. Look nice, I mean." And he did. Both he and Harry were dressed in fashionable slim cut dress robes, and Ron's usually untidy hair had been swept into a coif that appeared to be simultaneously meticulous and effortless.

"Hermione, I'd like you to meet my work partner, Adrien Murphy," Harry interrupted us.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, blushing furiously as I realized that Ron and I had been caught gawking at each other. I ignored Ginny's knowing smirk and I nodded at Adrien politely. He nodded back gruffly before turning to the group.

"Alright, your Portkey is scheduled to leave in," he checked his watch, "six minutes. You'll be deposited in a private garden outside of the protective enchantments of the resort. We've arranged for a group of Aurors to await you there. Once they've confirmed your arrival, you'll have to walk around to the front gate to enter the resort very publicly and seemingly on your own."

Murphy paused and eyed us all one by one, waiting for us to nod our understanding. "Once you're in," he continued, "Harry has a way to send us short messages if needed. All contact will need to go through him. Ginny," he barked, turning his attention to the redhead as she eyed him back cooly, clearly unshaken by his demeanor. "You are not to engage under any circumstances. You are neither Auror or Curse-Breaker, and though you are very brave to volunteer to be in harm's way as a civilian, it is only with Harry's high level of confidence in your skills that you are allowed to be included in this mission. Your job is to stay out of harm's way." He eyed her suspiciously as she saluted him, keeping her face straight enough that he considered her response sincere. Ron repressed a snort as Murphy turned his attention away from Ginny and she gave an exaggerated eye roll, drinking her coffee mug.

"You two," Murphy continued, redirecting his gaze to Ron and I. "You are, at least, trained in enough combat to take care of yourselves, but you are not to engage beyond breaking through the magical defenses of Fischer's private wards. Your contract is to help us get in, NOT to go in yourselves. Is that understood?" Ron's face was so similar to Ginny's in that moment, that I had to suppress my own grin as I nodded as seriously as I could.

"Good," Murphy barked. "Your Portkey is that old box on the other table." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, then checked his watch again. "You have two minutes."

"Thanks Adrien," Harry called to his retreating back as Jenn eyed me up and down one last time.

"Madly in love," she reminded Ron and I, before walking away herself. The four of us exchanged a glance then made our way over to the beat up box sitting on a table nearby.

"One minute," I heard Murphy call from behind us.

"So Harry," I murmured as we stepped around the cardboard. "Any hints as to what we're getting ourselves into?"

"I wish," he whispered back. "They haven't told me what to expect either. Just that we'll find something illegal."

"Why all the secrecy?" Ron mused quietly. Harry subtly shrugged and we all put our hands on the box.

"Three, two, one…" I felt a jerk behind my navel.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, we've been expecting you." The woman who greeted us sported the tallest bouffant I'd ever seen in person, sweeping down the path towards us in stilettos and a graceful, gauzy gown. We stood in a hedge garden in front of the Lark Chateau, its white stone spires cutting an imposing shape against the perfectly blue sky. The blue roofed building was enormous, with too many windows to count, and ivy crawling up the sides gently. The impressively shaped topiaries around us were accentuated with rose bushes that boasted buds of every impossible shade. Outside of the walls, vineyards rolled gently as far as the eye could see. The overall effect was nothing short of idyllic.

"Please, allow us to take your bags," the woman crooned in a light French accent, sweeping her distractingly taloned hand in an elegant flourish. Within moments several bellhops had snatched our luggage and whisked it away. "I trust your travel was pleasant?" Before we could answer, I heard the unmistakable flash and shutter of a camera. I felt my back stiffen, but forced myself not to wheel about and find the source of the noise. I'd been warned by our Auror team before we'd arrived that the best course of action with the paparazzi we were sure to encounter was to act as though we didn't know they were there.

Ron stepped closer to me and placed a large hand on my lower back, causing me to shiver pleasantly. I knew he was doing it for show, but I appreciated the gesture and leaned into his touch.

"My name is Abella," the woman with the bouffant said through a forced smile. Clearly she'd heard the camera as well, for she began to hurry us inside. "Please, let's get you checked in."

Ron raised an eyebrow at me, extending his hand as though it was a question. I smiled and nervously slipped my hand into his, shooting a glare at Ginny's teasing grin. I knew that acting like I was Ron's girlfriend was going to be very off-putting, but why on earth was I nervous? He was my best friend for goodness sake. This should be as easy as breathing. It was probably more about the mission than Ron, I decided, as we followed Abella around the ornate fountain and through the double doors of the Chateau.

The inside of the building was as luxurious as the exterior. A grand sweeping staircase commanded the attention of the room. A large statue of a dramatically posed witch was stationed halfway up, where the stairs split in half and continued their respective paths to the mezzanines overlooking the foyer. White stone pillars, large around as oak trees, extended from floor to ceiling in impressive displays of construction. Everything was trimmed in gold leaf, from the frames of the expansive murals on the walls, to the clawed feet of the couches, to the banisters on the staircase. Abella led us over to a huge marble desk, as I followed in shocked silence, trying to not stare open mouthed at the opulence of the lobby. I winced at the sound of another camera. _That's just what I need_ , I thought desperately, _a picture of me looking like an uncultured fish on the front of Witch Weekly._

Abella snapped her fingers, suddenly severe, and her wand appeared in her hand as if from thin air. She gestured over her shoulder at the wizard with the camera, the force of her spell throwing him quietly (although unceremoniously) out of the building. I saw him roll down the steps and land in a heap in the dirt before the double doors closed on my view.

"My apologies," Abella directed her words to Harry, although addressing all of us. "The security team will handle him from here. We can ensure your privacy in the other parts of the Lark Chateau, although we cannot seem to keep the swine," she spat the word, "out of the lobby and grounds. Please understand that we pride ourselves in our discretion." Her eyes gleamed rather diabolically at the words.

She was obviously a very talented and powerful witch. I did not want to be on her bad side.

"Thank you," Harry said, his smile strained.

"I have you scheduled in two rooms," Abella said, flipping open a large book and running her long nails over the details as she read. "Mr. Potter, you'll be in Room 15A with your fiancé. Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger," she looked at us interestedly. "There must be a mistake, I have you booked in a single king bed." She didn't say anything else, but waited in bated silence for us to react. I felt my face growing hot. She grinned wickedly.

"No mistake," Ron said, returning her smile with confidence I envied. He looped the arm that was holding my hand over my head, pulling my back against his hard chest as he kissed my cheek. His beard scratched against my neck as he murmured, loud enough for Abella to hear, "isn't that right, dearest?" His free hand drifted down to my thigh, where his fingers barely grazed the exposed skin of my leg through the slit of the dress. If I thought I'd shivered before, it was nothing compared to the instant effect of that move. _Damn Ron,_ I thought, begrudgingly impressed.

I giggled nervously, unsure of what to say, but the ruse seemed to please Abella. She clicked her tongue and handed Ron a key, positively beaming with delight. "Isn't that delicious?" She purred. "You'll both be in Room 15b then, adjoining doors to Mr. Potter per your request." I surveyed her as closely as I could while still pretending to snuggle into Ron. She might brag of her discretion, but the way she drank in the gossip we were offering her, I very much mistrusted Abella to hold her tongue.

 _All the better_ , I thought wryly as we made our way up the stairs. I could feel her eyes burning holes in our backs. _We are trying to cause a stir, after all._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a life of its own, and although it's not quite what I was planning, I'm not mad about the direction it went. I promise that I do have a plot for this fic in mind besides the Romione relationship... but I'm afraid you won't really be seeing it today. :) This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's a good place to end it so we can dive into the other stuff next time.
> 
> Hopefully this is a great start to your weekend! Let me know your thoughts, thank you for reading, and happy Friday y'all!

"Yeah, I could get used to this," Ginny sighed.

The four of us stood in her and Harry's hotel room, gazing at our surroundings. The king sized canopy bed was flanked by massive oil paintings in golden frames. We wandered through the room, moving just beyond the state of the art kitchenette, where two overstuffed couches sat on ornately clawed feet on either side of a marble fireplace. I opened the floor-to-ceiling glass balcony doors, inhaling the fresh scent that greeted me.

"This bathroom is massive!" Ginny's excited voice drifted out behind me, and I smiled as I leaned against the railing, enjoying the view of the rolling vineyards and the gentle breeze whispering against my face.

"There's a jacuzzi out here," Ron exclaimed, and I turned my head to see the tub sitting on the veranda with us, although I'd walked by it without noticing before.

"Hard to believe this is a work trip, isn't it?" I mused wistfully.

"Definitely," Ron agreed. "Shall we check out our room?" His voice was deliberately even, though he avoided my gaze as he said the words and I noticed the slightest pink hue to the tips of his ears.

"Right," I cleared my throat. "Yes, of course."

We walked back inside and Ron led the way to the door that divided the rooms. I left it open as I followed him to our side, finding a room that was a mirror image to Harry and Ginny's. Our bags had already been brought up; mine sitting on one side of the bed and his on the other. I beelined for my suitcase, feeling my pulse quicken as I pretended to dig around in it. _Hermione, what's gotten into you?_ I chastised myself. _It's just a room. It's only uncomfortable if you make it so._

I took a deep breath, then finally looked at Ron to say something before I realized I was gazing at him across the width of what might be the world's coziest bed. Whatever I'd been about to say died in my throat as we stared at each other. I knew those eyes so well, but I couldn't fully understand or believe what I saw in them.

"I think we're going to order room service for lunch." I jolted, surprised by the unexpected arrival of Harry's voice. He looked like he was suppressing a smirk as he stood in the doorway between rooms, green eyes flashing back and forth between us. "Gin also wants a nap before dinner, since we had to get up so early this morning."

"Ok, Harry," I replied quickly, my voice bright, keenly aware that Ron's eyes were still on my face.

"Shut the door," Ginny's voice called. Was she already in bed?

"Oi," Ron shouted, ripping his gaze away from me. "I don't need to know."

Harry grinned saucily before he closed the door, leaving Ron and I alone. In our shared hotel room.

Still, I'd had a moment to recover and I was ready this time. "Are you hungry?"

"Always," he grinned at me. "But let's not order room service. Maybe we could go walk around the casino and grab a bite in a restaurant?"

"Sounds great," I responded, relieved for an excuse to leave the room. "I guess I should change into my evening wear first, if we're just going to stay in the casino tonight."

"Good idea," he nodded. I picked a dress at random from my suitcase and slipped into the bathroom, which was indeed as massive and ornate as Ginny had described it, complete with both a shower and a tub big enough for two. I blushed at the implication, shaking my head at my reflection in the mirror. _Get it together, Granger._

The dress was a dark green halter gown with a high low hem. It felt silky, though the outer shell was a sparkly mesh that shone beautifully in the light. I swept my magically perfected curls into a low messy bun, giving silent thanks to the glam squad for forcing me into submission over that particular topic.

When I left the bathroom, Ron had changed into grey formal dress robes, looking as dapper as ever. "Ready?" He asked, his eyes appraising me up and down approvingly.

"Let's go," I affirmed. I chose to ignore his stare, and, looping my arm through his, we left the room.

* * *

I was thankful to spend the afternoon wandering around the casino with Ron, where we were able to find a semblance of normalcy to our friendship. By the time we met Harry and Ginny for dinner, I felt that the situation had improved significantly. I supposed the shock of our assignment had worn off, and now we could carry on pretending to be in love without any awkwardness.

The maître d' sat us at a table on a balcony overlooking the gardens, with a breathtaking view of the vineyards. I breathed in the open air contentedly, listening to Harry order expensive wine for the table and the server list the specials.

Ron moved his chair ever so slightly closer to mine, gently resting his arm on the backrest of my seat so that his fingers grazed my arm. The lightness of his touch raised goosebumps on my skin. I made a show of placing my hand on Ron's thigh as I ordered my appetizer demurely.

Ginny shot us an inquiring look when the server walked away. "You remember what Abella said?" I asked her in a murmur. "The paparazzi can't get inside the Chateau."

"That's why we requested an outdoor table," Ron agreed, also keeping his voice low. "We're thinking we have a better chance of being photographed out here."

As if on cue, I heard the distant sound of a camera shutter. "Makes sense," Ginny said. "What about… the rest of the things we want to do here?" She spoke carefully, and I knew she was keenly aware of all the people around us, even if they weren't openly listening.

"We've been advised to wait until tomorrow," Harry answered her airily, as though talking about the weather. "Check the tabloids in the morning before we… plan any other activities."

"So a real night of vacation?" Ginny asked, eyes sparkling. "How exciting."

"Whatever shall we do with it?" A teasing smile played on Ron's lips. His fingers traced light circles on my shoulder, fiddling idly with loose curls and sending tingles down my spine.

"My partner's _recommendation_ ," Harry emphasized carefully. "Is that we spend time in The Villa, which is a bar in the back garden that he just loved when he was here."

I bit my lip, processing Harry's coded words. The Aurors wanted us to make a big public display tonight, drinking at an outside bar instead of focusing on our mission. It made sense, I supposed, to establish our presence at the Chateau with the staff and other patrons. They would assume we intended to behave the same way for the rest of our stay, and the big question of "what will Harry Potter do on his vacation" would be answered immediately. If we didn't go out tonight, everyone would be watching our every move. Still, drinking alcohol on the job seemed risky. I caught Ron's eye, and he must have picked up on the thoughtfulness in my gaze.

"Did your partner like any drinks in particular?" Ron asked. "Is he a butterbeer or firewhiskey guy?" _Well done Ron_ , I thought. That was exactly the question I wanted to ask as well.

"Firewhiskey," Harry answered firmly. "He even sent a couple Hangover Draughts with me in case we… er... overindulge. He thought it was quite safe to do so."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, seeing a similar expression of shock on Ron's face. So, basically we were supposed to drink as much as we needed to in order to make the point, and not worry about the risk in security. The Aurors must feel confident that so long as we're simply perceived as rich patrons, we'll be protected within the Chateau.

Ginny looked as though Christmas had come early.

The server brought out the wine and appetizers, which we enjoyed in companionable conversation. The drink warmed me pleasantly from within, and the breeze of the evening was gentle and cool against my skin. We'd just received our entrees and our second bottle of wine when I saw Abella gliding towards us from inside of the restaurant. "Incoming," I murmured as quietly as I could, placing my hand back on Ron's thigh just as she arrived at the table.

"Mr. Potter." Abella was smiling toothily. "How are you enjoying your stay with us so far?"

"It's perfectly lovely," Ginny gushed, grabbing Harry's hand and saving him the need to answer. She batted her eyelashes and gazed up at Abella. "We're so pleased with the accommodations."

Ron snorted, covering it as a small cough. "Are you alright, dearest?" I simpered, the glass of wine I'd finished making me feel braver. I lifted my hand off his leg and placed it on his bearded cheek. "Anything wrong?" I opened my eyes as wide as I could and stared at him imploringly.

He was shocked for a fraction of a second, before I could see the smirk that fought to tug on his lips. He covered my hand with his own. "Nothing's ever wrong when you're here, love." He kissed my fingertips, the heat of which I felt in my chest, then entwined our hands.

"We're great," Harry's voice was strained, and we turned our attention back to him. He was smiling forcefully at Abella. "Thank you for checking."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Abella answered him, flashing her taloned hands in an excited gesture. "The owner has requested to meet you. If you do not object, he will be here shortly to make your acquaintance." I watched Abella carefully. It was hard to describe, but something about her demeanor seemed to have changed, ever so slightly.

"How exciting," Ginny answered enthusiastically. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Fischer likes to check in on our high profile clients," Abella flattered. "Says it adds a personal touch." Her grin was plastered to her face, but her upper body seemed stiffer than before, as though she were holding herself rigid.

"We'd be delighted," Harry answered politely, and not a moment too soon.

Based on all the pictures I'd seen, the man approaching us now was definitely Leon Fischer. His blonde hair was slicked straight back, oily looking. His eyes were an unremarkable brown and deep set on his puffy face. He wore pinstripe dress robes and wingtip shoes, and when he arrived at our table he stood at ease with his arms behind his back.

"Mr. Fischer," Abella said quickly, hands clenched in fists at her sides. "Might I introduce you to Mr. Potter and his fiancé, Ms. Weasley." I caught Ron's eye, knowing that he also noticed she hadn't bothered to announce us.

"No, please," Leon said quickly, gesturing with white gloved hands to prevent Harry from standing. "I did not mean to interrupt your meal. I just wanted to come by and make myself known to you." His voice, German accent barely noticeable, was as greasy as his hair. "I always try to be available for my most esteemed guests."

He gave a little bow, and Harry nodded in return. "Thank you Mr. Fischer, that's very kind."

"I'll leave you and your companions to it," Leon said. "Please know that I am at your disposal, Mr. Potter." He shook Harry's hand and strode away from us, exiting the restaurant as quickly as he'd arrived, Abella trailing in his wake.

"Wow," I breathed, my mind whirling.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "That's him, huh?"

"Pretty much exactly what I was imagining," Ginny said. "Though he could give Snape a run for his money in the shampoo department."

"You know, I'm not sure which was worse," Harry said with a small smirk. "Meeting our supervillain, or how thick you three are laying it on."

"What do you mean?" Ron gasped in mock indignation, while Ginny and I laughed.

"Pet names?" Harry inquired, chuckling. "Must we?"

"Is it too much?" I asked. Though still half joking, I begrudgingly extracted my hand from Ron's. "We do want to be realistic, you know."

"It's not," Ginny exclaimed quickly, elbowing Harry in the side. "It's really not."

"She's right," Harry agreed, though I didn't miss the look he shared with Ginny as we resumed eating. "If you two are supposed to be newly in love, then over the top is exactly how it should be."

I shot a sideways glance at Ron, who winked at me. I quickly looked down, twirling my fork in my food absently and smiling at my plate.

The rest of dinner passed quickly, and before I knew it, we were heading down to The Villa to flirt with scandal. We got a table on the patio with a beautiful view of the gardens, just as the sun was setting behind the hills. The area was draped in strings of small, golden lights, and I thought I saw some fairies flying through the hedges.

We ordered several bottles of champagne, toasting merrily and sincerely to our night off. In the soft pink lighting of twilight and with a contented belly, I could almost forget the photographs that were surely being taken of us, and the imminent danger of our yet to be completed mission.

"Well team," Ginny said as a waitress brought over four shots and a tray of cocktails. "You know our orders. Bottom's up." She picked up her glass and lifted it in a cheers, grinning madly.

I eyed the drink, leaving it firmly on the table. I didn't like shots. Never had.

"Want me to take it for you?" Ron asked me quietly, leaning in close under the pretense of tucking a curl behind my ear.

"You don't have to," I said. "But I won't be either." He chuckled and threw it back, drinking his as well before Ginny noticed.

I glanced across the table to check on her, only to find she'd managed to pull Harry onto a small dance floor. "Really showing out, isn't she?" I murmured, and Ron laughed full heartedly.

"Our Gin never does anything halfway." He drummed his fingers on the table, looking thoughtful, before he nodded and stood. "Walk with me?" He asked, extending his hand.

I didn't ask, I just put my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. He led me out into the gardens, where we followed a path, arm in arm. The noise of the bar quieted as we walked, and I welcomed the silence.

"Figured we can stage some outstanding photos out here," he whispered in my ear, warm breath tickling my neck.

"This is so invasive," I responded just as quietly, though I smiled doggedly in case anyone was watching. "Is this how Harry and Ginny live all the time?"

"I think so," Ron answered thoughtfully. "Though one can cope with the attention a little easier when one is drunk."

I snorted with laughter, then covered my mouth, doubling down on my giggles with the noise.

"So unbecoming," Ron teased me, and I laughed some more. Shot or no shot, it was safe to say I was feeling the effects of the alcohol.

I smiled up at him and leaned my head on his shoulder as we walked. Might as well milk it for all it's worth.

The path led to a wall of full blooms that were literally glowing in the near darkness. I dropped his arm and walked to them, mesmerized. Their bioluminescence was beautiful.

"I'll bet these were very expensive," I said, impressed. "Breathtaking."

"Yeah," Ron breathed the word, and the sound made me freeze, knowing instinctively that he certainly wasn't talking about flowers. I turned my head towards him and I caught that same look in his eye as before, back in our room.

He reached out a hand towards me, hesitantly. I gulped, but stepped into him so his arm circled my waist. We were so close to each other.

A louder than usual cheer went up from the bar, shaking me from the spell of the moment.

"I'm- uh- not sure anyone is out here," I forced myself to speak, my tone upbeat. "Should we head back?"

"Er… yeah," he agreed, though he kept his hand on my waist as we turned.

We were halfway to The Villa when a small crowd of paparazzi cut us off. They shouted questions at us as Ron tried to shield me from their flashing cameras, and we pushed our way through.

"They are definitely not supposed to be doing this," I told him, feeling slightly panicked. They weren't dangerous, but their attention was invasive and overwhelming.

"We must be juicy enough news to risk it," he answered through clenched teeth.

When they started grabbing at my arms, I'd had enough. "Oh, for Merlin's sake." Losing my temper, I reached down to my wand, which was strapped to my leg, and whipped it in a quick circle over my head. "Immobulus."

The crowd of overzealous reporters froze in their tracks, Ron roaring with laughter as we picked our way through.

"Bet you'll think twice about messing with Hermione again, huh?" He goaded. "You wanna know why I'm dating her? Because of this. She's bloody brilliant, isn't she?"

I tried not to let it go to my head too much, but his happy delirium was infectious. We were almost five meters away from the group when one of them shouted at our backs.

"At least tell us, why now?"

Ron froze, and I grabbed his arm, willing him to keep walking. "They have what they need," I whispered. "Let's go."

"You could have had her anytime," the voice taunted. It was too dark to see which of the frozen shapes it came from. "Is this just a ruse? A stunt to get more attention? You haven't won The Most Charming Smile Award in months; are you desperate to get back in the public eye ahead of your sister's wedding?"

I could see the words were eating at Ron, but I grabbed both sides of his face and forced his eyes to meet mine. "They're nothing," I told him firmly. "You don't need them." I could see his anger dissipating. "Come back to the bar with me?"

His intensity crumpled with the last question. He put his hand on top of mine and kissed my palm. "Trust me?" he whispered. I nodded. He tugged my arm and we turned around.

I could tell my freezing charm had worn off of most of the paparazzi at this point, and though they kept a healthy distance from us, their eyes glittered in the low lighting, watching us expectantly.

"You want to know why now?" Ron asked. His voice wasn't loud, but his tone was strong. "Because after the war, there was too much pain, and too much to do, and we weren't ready." He shot a glance at me, and I nodded encouragingly. "Then we grew up a little," he continued his speech, though his eyes were on me. "We had to find ourselves, sort out our own heads, and still, we weren't ready. But now," he pulled me into his arms, large hand on my back again. "We've healed, and we've grown, and we've found that the pieces we've been missing have been safely kept by the other in preparation for this moment." He kissed my hand again, speaking more softly as I gazed up at him, entirely captivated by his words. He rubbed his thumb along my jaw. "For this perfect part of our lives, where we're finally, finally ready."

And in one graceful movement, Ron Weasley kissed me.

I forgot how to breathe. My heart was both bursting at the seams and imploding in shock. I was bombarded with sensations: his warm, soft lips, his strong arms around me, the gentle scratch of his beard, the sounds of cameras firing rapidly. Then it was over, and he pulled away.

"Uh, so anyway," he said, voice breaking slightly as he tore his eyes from me. "We'll be going now."

I was feeling so many emotions that I wasn't sure where one started and the other ended. Had he meant what he said? How could someone fake something like that? An even bigger question jumped to the front of my mind- did I want him to mean it? I was still wheeling in shock when we got back to our table.

"Where have you two been?" Ginny asked jovially, splashing her drink as she and Harry sat down next to us, sweaty from dancing.

"Making the front page," I answered faintly, pressing my fingertips to my lips.

Ginny squealed, her grin excited. "What happened? Tell me everything."

"I think it's time to go up to our rooms," Ron interrupted. "We've accomplished what we need to do, I think."

Harry checked his watch, then scanned all the empty glasses sitting on our table. "You're probably right. We might need those Hangover Draughts after all."

"We're leaving already?" Ginny pouted.

"I'll make it up to you," Harry promised her, grabbing her hand and tracing the lines on her palm with his fingers. "We don't have to go to sleep yet." His fingers danced lightly over her wrists, and she sucked in a breath.

"We need to work on boundaries," Ron grunted, standing quickly from the table. "I think we can all agree that we need more boundaries."

Ginny smirked as we stood to follow, the four of us making our way through the gardens and back into the Chateau. We climbed the main staircase, and Ron let the other two lead the way down the hall to our rooms, holding back a bit. I slowed to match his pace.

"Listen, about earlier," he said, the back of his neck burning red. "I ah, shouldn't have…" I felt my heart sinking as he sputtered on. "I mean, you've been drinking, and I just kind of jumped you, didn't I?"

"It's fine, Ron." I said firmly, clamping down on the disappointment swelling within me. "You have my retroactive permission. Please don't worry."

"Right," he said awkwardly. "Er, thanks then." We walked a few more steps before he spoke again. "Definitely sealed the deal on our ruse though, didn't we? Every tabloid in Europe is going to be running that story tomorrow."

So, it was an act. Which was fine, I reminded myself, because I was acting too. That was the plan all along, to have a pretend relationship. I forced a light laugh and nodded my head. "Yeah, mission accomplished."

 _But if this wasn't real_ , I wondered as he unlocked the door and we stepped into the dark room, _why is it that we're still holding hands?_

* * *

"Good morning," Ginny's voice roused me from my sleep as something small landed on the bed next to me. I begrudgingly forced my eyes open and sat up, leaning against the headboard. I felt groggy and tired, and Ginny was entirely too peppy. "Hangover Draught for you," she called, crossing the room to open up the curtains. The sunlight made me squint, and I fumbled in the bed for the small vial of potion she'd tossed.

I drank it quickly as I heard Ron's groan from across the room. When we'd returned the previous night, he'd changed into his pajamas and wordlessly settled on the couch with a pillow and extra blanket. Ginny handed him a small vial as well, and I could feel the effects of the potion almost instantly. That explained Ginny's energy at least.

"I come bearing gifts," Harry called as he sauntered into the room as well, levitating a carrier of takeaway coffee cups and holding a stack of newspapers and magazines. I happily took a coffee, though I eyed the tabloids nervously. "Might as well know," Harry said softly, offering me a handful. I sighed and accepted them, vaguely registering Ron's muttered rantings on respecting boundaries.

"Cheer up, Ronniekins," Ginny grinned, dropping another stack of papers on the coffee table in front of him and settling herself into an armchair with her own cup. "The Aurors are very impressed with you. Apparently you've both surpassed all expectations when it comes to fake dating."

My heart speeding wildly, I pulled myself into a cross legged position in the bed, stretching my neck and taking a big gulp of coffee before I could will myself to look down.

I expected to see, up close and cringingly personal, a photo of Ron and I snogging, with some trashy headline about being Weasley's next squeeze. What I did not expect was a picture of Ron and I in front of the bioluminescent flowers. I watched in shock as, on a loop, photo-me stepped into his arms and we gazed at each other like nothing else in the world mattered. I pulled the paper closer to examine our expressions, which I could only describe as raw. And tender. And heated. And immense. I guess I could describe them a lot of ways, but all the adjectives were shocking to me.

I took another shaking sip of coffee as I finally ripped my eyes away from the photo to read the headline, "Love at Last: Beloved War Heroes Find Romance." My stomach was somersaulting as I stared, processing the information.

"So," Ginny said conversationally, and I realized how quiet it'd been while Ron and I were reading. "You guys wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head and ripped open the paper to the inside article, which did finally include the moving photograph of our kiss, although it was gentler and sweeter than I thought it would be. I watched Ron pull my body against his as our lips moved exactly twice before I threw the paper to the floor, knowing I was blushing from head to foot.

"Did you actually say all that stuff, Ron?" Harry asked. He was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, watching both of our reactions. "About timing and everything?"

"Yeah," Ron grunted, eyes glued to the paper he held open in front of him. "Reckon I did."

"Guess I should start getting ready," I said, shrilly, hopping out of bed and pointedly ignoring Harry and Ginny's cries of dissent. I ran to the bathroom and splashed water on my face, willing myself to cool off and calm down. The images ran through my mind as I met my own eyes in the mirror. I felt embarrassed and exposed, but also… anticipative? My feelings were further confused as I realized with a jolt, remembering the way Ron's hand slowly moved down my back while we snogged in the photo, that I was also definitely... a little aroused.

 _For Merlin's sake, Granger._ I splashed more water on my face and then brushed my teeth, finding the other three chatting when I left the bathroom again.

"Murphy thinks we've distracted everyone enough to begin some light investigating," Harry told me, and I was relieved no one was pushing the issue. "Ginny and I will spend the day searching the grounds, and you and Ron should see what you can find inside."

I knew without asking that we were being kept away from the paparazzi intentionally, but at this point I wasn't complaining. "What're we looking for?" I asked, hunting in my suitcase for a more casual outfit.

"Areas that are more heavily guarded, or anywhere you can detect magic might be hiding something," Harry shrugged apologetically. "That's honestly all I know. I don't have many more details than you do."

"That's barmy," Ron reflected, still lounging on the couch. "What could be so bad that they're refusing to tell us what it is?"

"I'm not necessarily sure it's bad," Ginny contemplated, and we all looked at her in surprise. "Harry almost never knows what's going on when he's sent on missions, and then when he finally cracks a case and tells me what the big secret was, I always think to myself, 'that's it? They couldn't have just told him that?'"

"That's pretty on brand for what we know about the Ministry," I replied cynically. "They've never been particularly forthcoming with information, have they?"

"We'll meet you for the show in the main theater at eight tonight," Harry said, steering the conversation. "We have box tickets, and although the paparazzi can't get in, it would be good to show our faces for the sake of the staff and other guests."

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

"We'll search the Chateau and report tonight," Ron agreed. I met his eyes for the briefest of moments, my stomach flipping. A whole day of just Ron and I, then. _Here we go._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to cheesyficwriter for beta-ing! Happy Friday!

"So, how do you reckon we should approach this?" Ron asked as we left our room, dressed and ready for the day. We'd decided to don more casual outfits, as our task was to appear as though we were vacationing within the Chateau while actually investigating as much ground as we could cover for any signs of protective magic. I had on a simple white summer dress, which I was pleased to find had a modest neckline, while Ron also opted for muggle attire instead of the formality of robes. Given the heat of the season, he'd gone for bermuda shorts and a polo shirt, a shade of blue which perfectly matched his eyes, if I were the type to notice that kind of thing.

"I've been thinking about it," I answered, giving myself a mental shake. "We ought to consider getting a map from the front desk. The Chateau is huge, and the reference material will help us decide where to start."

"Wha? Come off it," he scoffed. "It's not that big a place, Mione. Can't we just wander around until we find something?"

"A diagram would make much more sense," I exclaimed. "I don't think you're appreciating the enormity of the property, Ron. The odds of randomly stumbling across…" I trailed off. His face, which had before this point been held in a perfectly stoic expression, split into a grin while I was mid rant. Although he continued to look forward while we walked, I could see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You're teasing me."

"Maybe a bit," he admitted, nudging me gently with his shoulder. "You just make it so easy sometimes."

"Oh, Ron," I sighed, though a smile of my own threatened to break through.

We descended the staircase and approached the front desk, where Abella stood waiting for us, hair swept in that signature bouffant. Today she wore another effervescent gown, and her eyes were heavily lined with black. She graced us with a tremendously toothy grin as we drew near, her eyes subtly raking over Ron's figure. I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Ah, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley. What can I assist you with?"

"Do you have a map of the Chateau?" I asked, forcing myself to keep my tone amiable. "We were trying to decide how to spend our day together, and there are just so many options, aren't there, Ronnie?" I looked up at him through my lashes, knowing how much he hated being called that. He squeezed my hand in revenge, otherwise not breaking character.

"We have a number of activities," Abella replied, quickly pulling out a map and circling attractions with the tip of her pointed fingernail, leaving magically induced red circles in its wake. "Two casinos, a spa and lounge, five pools, three theatres, and eight restaurants and bars. We also offer flying tours of the vineyards, wine tastings, group fitness in the workout facilities, hot air balloon rides, and access to a Quidditch pitch." She pushed the diagram across the counter to us. "You look like you play, don't you?" She purred at Ron, who blinked as he registered her sudden shift in attention.

"Yeah, in a pick up league back home. I prefer Keeper." He smiled politely.

"I bet you do," Abella praised. I cleared my throat pointedly. "Right, would you like me to help you make any reservations?"

"No, no," I replied icily as I picked the map up off her counter.

"Here, this pamphlet has all the show times in the theatres," she handed Ron a folded brochure. "This one has times for group activities."

"We'll talk about our options," I insisted, pulling Ron away.

"Of course," Abella called after us, inclining her head. "Let me know how else I might be of _service_." The last word was so obviously dripping with a second meaning that I had to stop myself from pulling out my wand and hexing her into next week.

Ron looked back and forth between the two of us, before smirking and casually cupping my butt in his large hand. I almost removed it on instinct, but with a surreptitious glance at Abella I could see it sent a message, so I let him keep it there as we walked up the staircase.

"So feisty, Granger," Ron remarked in a low murmur, dipping his head so his lips brushed my ear as he spoke.

"I guess fake jealousy comes with the fake title," I whispered airily, hoping to turn it into a joke. What had gotten into me? I've met all of Ron's girlfriends, and seen plenty of women throw themselves at him, and it'd never bothered me before.

He chuckled as we turned onto the mezzanine, snatching the map out of my hands. "It's a nice look on you."

I ignored the comment and reached for the map again, which Ron held high over my head. "What're you looking for anyway? It's not like it's going to say 'here's Fischer, come and get him, Hermione.'"

"I know that," I snapped, tapping my foot and holding my hand out expectantly. With a roll of his eyes, he gave the diagram back to me. "I just think we could be a little more methodical about it, that's all."

I led him to a bench stationed in an offshoot corridor, and we unfolded the document on our laps. The Chateau was bigger than I'd even imagined. I guessed that Undetectable Extension charms were at work, because according to the blueprint there were more floors and wings then there was physical space for.

We studied it in silence, grappling with the enormity of our task. "Ok," Ron began, his demeanor more serious. His brows were furrowed thoughtfully, a look I'd grown to recognize as his strategy mode. "What do we know about secret, curse ridden hidey holes?"

"Well," I answered, racking my brain. "They're... usually kept some distance away from highly trafficked areas."

"That's true." Ron tapped the map. "Let's eliminate some of those." I used my wand to X out the lobby and halls near casinos, restaurants, and theatres. We paused, examining the map. It was still way too much ground to cover.

"Strong protective enchantments can interfere with anything that requires magic to operate," Ron said softly, fingers running over a labeled storage space on the edge of the diagram. "You told me that on our mission to Mumbai last year, remember?"

"Brilliant," I breathed, impressed. I crossed out the maintenance closets, most of the outdoor garden space, the spa, and all the residential halls. "That only leaves a handful of corridors," I said approvingly. "Much more manageable." I looked up from the map, excited. A small smile played on his lips. "Ready?" I asked, standing to avoid any more prolonged eye contact.

"Let's go," he agreed.

We decided to start in a hallway on the ground floor that led to a less popular garden via a small access door. Predictably, no one was around, so I set a sensor charm to notify us if someone got close and we began to investigate in earnest.

This part of the job, at least, we'd done a thousand times before. There was a pretty finite collection of spells that allowed the caster to reveal latent magic. Although some types of magic were easier to hide than others, it was nearly impossible to obscure completely. Magic always left traces, and we were well trained in revealing and decoding the evidence.

It was quickly apparent that no such enchantments were hidden in this hallway, and when Ron shook his head at me, I knew he agreed. Before I could suggest that we investigate a second location, my wand began to vibrate. "Sensor's been tripped," I warned him. We turned to exit the space, and I rounded the corner so quickly that I bumped into someone. I heard a small "oof," and I reached out blindly to help steady whoever I'd knocked off balance.

"Thank you, dear," my unsuspecting victim said in a warbly voice. She was an older woman with wrinkled skin and grey hair. She wore a floral, long sleeved dress that hung to her ankles and a wide brimmed floppy hat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I exclaimed, feeling a hot flash of guilt as I took in her walking cane.

"Nonsense," the woman responded firmly.

"I'd listen to her, miss," the man she was with spoke. "She's very stubborn."

"Hush, now," the woman demanded of the man, who smiled at her in response. "My name is Flora, and this is Gene."

"I feel your pain, Gene, I've learned a thing or two about stubbornness from this one," Ron spoke, facetious, as he gestured at me. He shook the man's hand.

"We know who you are, of course," Flora said, before we had a chance to return the introductions. "And might I just say, that we are very pleased that you are here together. It's about time, if you ask me."

"Flora," her husband admonished. "Leave them be."

"And what brings you here?" Ron asked warmly, though I could see pink on the back of his neck.

"Just a vacation, you know," Flora explained. Gene seemed happy to let her lead the conversation. "We're trying to make the most of retirement. Enjoy life."

"How lovely," I said sweetly. "Good for you." The elderly couple smiled at each other again.

"We're going down to a late breakfast," Flora offered. "Would you like to join us?"

"That's so generous," Ron responded. "But we're due at the vineyard for a tasting, you know."

"Oh," Gene waved his hand. "Of course, don't worry about it."

"But do say you'll join us, if you ever find yourselves near where we are?" Flora implored.

"We'd be honored," I replied, tickled by her enthusiasm.

"Excellent," she beamed. "Let's go, Gene, we've bothered them enough."

They hobbled off slowly together as Ron and I walked in the other direction. I caught his eye, pleased to see he was equally as amused by the opinionated old witch and her accommodating partner.

* * *

It was well after lunch time, and my stomach was growling fiercely. I willed myself to ignore it as we walked into the fifth area of the day. This one was a hall on the top floor that led to a handful of small conference rooms. Like clockwork, I cast a sensor charm and Ron and I set out on opposite walls, muttering incantations and tapping our wands every few meters.

As I worked, I became lost in my thoughts, rehashing the events of the past day. It felt like a whirlwind, being assigned to this case and then whisked to Europe's premier magical millionaire's club. Even last night was a lifetime ago, in some ways. Was it really only yesterday that we'd spent our evening having a pleasant dinner on the patio and some drinks in the garden with friends? Was it only so recently that I'd gone on an innocent walk with Ron that ended in such a newsworthy kiss? I felt blood rushing to fill my cheeks as I remembered that particular detail, thankful I was facing away from him. It was easy to get swept up in the experience, with Ron spouting such emotional speeches and snogging me like that.

It was quite the kiss too, I couldn't deny it. I usually found first kisses to be an awkward, bumbling affair, but not with Ron. With Ron, it felt like we'd skipped the part where we had to get to know each other- in _that_ way, at least- and gone straight to fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Still, I had to wonder why he'd bothered with that extra demonstration. We'd given the paparazzi plenty of photo ops over the course of the evening. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. He would have walked away, I'm sure of it, until he'd been goaded by that random reporter. What was it that drove him to action?

"Ron?" I spoke softly. "Can I ask you about… about last night?"

"Er, I suppose, yeah."

"Why did you do it?" I stopped my work and turned around. He froze, his back to me, wand still extended in front of him where he'd been examining a doorframe.

"Do what?" His voice was casual, though he hadn't yet moved.

"They had plenty of photos of us already," I answered. "We could have gone back to the Villa. Why did that guy… why did he bother you so much?"

Ron rested his outstretched arms on the door frame, his stature collapsing a bit as he hung his head and took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder at me. "I dunno, Mione. I just thought…" I bit my lip, waiting out his silence. "I was worried they were going to make the headline all about me." He shook his head and finally turned, sagging against the frame, arms crossed. "I don't mind being called a pig, or a player, or whatever else they can throw at me. I can handle it. But I can't… I hate the idea of you being dragged down. Or Ginny," he added as an afterthought. "I didn't want them to spin it about her wedding. I was just trying to protect you." He sounded frustrated, running his long fingers through his hair. "I thought if I could steer them into a headline about us dating for love instead of dating as a publicity stunt, or a cheap shag, that it would…" He trailed off, shrugging, seeming to have no more words.

"Be better for my reputation?" I supplied.

He grunted. "Probably a ridiculous idea, I realize that now. You don't need me protecting you."

"No, I don't," I agreed. "But... it's really nice. That you cared."

"Of course I care." I noticed the change in verb tense, and as I met his eyes I could see they looked pained. "Hermione, I-"

Just then my wand emitted sparks, causing me to let out a yelp. The tip of it was pointed off to the side, where I'd lost track of what I was doing while listening to Ron. The spell I'd cast caused a large red cloud to appear in the hall, swirling around the recessed lighting in the ceiling before it disappeared.

"Well shite," Ron cursed, as we both stared up at the spot in shock.

"Levitate me up?" He nodded, waving his wand so that I was propelled towards the ceiling, where I knocked gently. "Sounds hollow." I cast a few more spells. "And there are definitely humans up there."

"I know we're on the top floor, but could there be a room above us?" Ron asked as he lowered me to the ground. I extracted the map from my cross body bag.

"Not according to this," I said, inspecting it closely. "No attics, or storage spaces, or anything."

"Hmm," he had his arms crossed, tapping his fingers impatiently on his biceps as he stared up. "The indicator was red, though."

"I know," I whispered, equally as confused. That particular spell helped to identify latent spells, manifesting in clouds of colors to indicate the severity of the protective enchantments. Red was critical. Whatever was hidden up there was guarded with dark and powerful magic. "How do we get in?"

"Can't imagine we can just blow a hole in it?" Ron asked, and though I assumed he already knew the answer, I shook my head.

"Even if that didn't blow our cover, it's unlikely the magic would reveal what it's hiding using the brute force method."

"Crazy there are no guards or anything out here," Ron mused, scanning the halls.

"You're right," I remarked. "Fischer isn't the type to leave a ceiling tiling as a defense mechanism. He likes grand displays."

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron smiled. "So let's see if we can find a staircase or something near here."

I checked the diagram again, and we navigated the labyrinth of halls, trying fruitlessly to circle the enchanted spot as much as we could to find another entrance. It wasn't very long before my wand began to vibrate, the sensor charm tripped again.

I held it out to him, evidence of our incoming company. He nodded and grabbed my hand as we walked as quickly as we could to the main hall, trying to put distance between ourselves and the location of the hidden enchantments. We froze, hearing footsteps approaching from the same direction we needed to go.

"What's the closest amenity?" Ron asked me in a hush.

"The spa is one floor down," I answered, equally as quiet.

"Fuck it all," Ron breathed as the footsteps grew quickly in volume. He pulled me behind a draped pillar and pinned me against it. Even though the movements were quick, they were gentle. "Wrap your arms around my neck," he whispered. I did as he instructed and he leaned against me, one forearm pressed into the pillar above my head and the other around my waist. He inclined his face so our noses were an inch apart. We were wedged between the pillar and the wall, though we weren't exactly hidden from view, which I supposed was his motivation for this provocative alibi. "Hold still."

But I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. We stood, gazes locked for several of the slowest heartbeats of my life. Those eyes, usually so easy to read, were dark with an emotion and a heat that was unfamiliar to me. His gaze dropped to my lips, which I licked nervously as I bit the bottom one on instinct. He let out a soft moan, stepping somehow closer to my body, so our fronts pushed together completely and I could feel his leg between my own. His lips grazed mine.

"Oi, you there!" The way Ron froze this time was much different than before. I could feel his muscles tensing as he closed his eyes, breathing deeply as though to regain himself.

"We've been drinking," he hissed, just as a large hand clasped onto his shoulder and spun him around. He leaned into it, staggering for show and catching himself on the wall.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking confused and off balance.

Our intruder's eyes widened as he recognized who we were. I stayed leaning against the pillar, lips slightly parted. It was easy to act shocked, given the rapid change in events.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley," the man stammered, taking a few steps back. Ron righted himself and I slid my arms around his waist as though leaning on him for support. "It's jus' that, no one is supposed to be up here."

"We were looking for the spa," I invented. "For a couple's massage."

"That is, before we got… er… rather distracted," Ron said huskily, cupping his hand on my cheek and raising my eyes to meet his own. Not a level of PDA I liked as a sober person, but to put on the show, I giggled as much as I could and gazed up at him. He gave me a small wink.

"Your amenities really should be labeled more clearly," I babbled, turning my attention back to the man. "Anyone could get lost in here."

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am," he responded politely, touching his head. "I er, I'm going to have to ask you to… ah…" He looked uncomfortable asserting any kind of authority on us.

"Let's go, sweetheart," I cooed to Ron, catching his small grimace at the term of endearment. "I don't want to miss our appointment."

He looped his arm around my waist and we left without another word to the man, talking loudly of everything we wanted to do in the spa. Once we'd descended a flight of stairs, I released my hold on Ron, avoiding his eyes and continuing our brisque walk.

"We've definitely found it," I murmured, trying to refocus. "I just don't think that's the entrance."

"I agree," Ron responded. "Wonder if we could get our hands on an Appropriator?"

"We could ask Harry," I said doubtfully. "The Aurors would have to smuggle it in."

"C'mon," Ron said, stretching his arms over his head. "I'm starving. Let's get a late lunch and meet them for the show."

* * *

The show was like Cirque du Soleil, full of extremely talented wizards and witches who could conjure beautiful magic while also contorting their bodies. It was impressive, and for a couple of hours I was able to enjoy my time at the Chateau. It was a welcome break, and over too soon.

We went to a crowded bar afterward and were seated immediately at a booth in the back of the VIP section. Harry ordered bottle service, and although I was determined to not drink a drop, I waited until we had full glasses and the server left. I cast a couple of choice spells to both diminish the volume of the loud music and keep us from being overheard as we caught our friends up on the findings of the afternoon.

"So that's it?" Harry asked excitedly. "That's a relief, because Ginny and I had no luck today."

"I wouldn't say that," Ginny interjected, raising her glass to us as though in a toast. "Depends on how you define lucky." Her tone was innocent, though she grinned wickedly, and Ron nearly choked on his drink. Harry flushed pink.

"Anyway," I emphasized the word loudly, trying to smooth the moment over. "Yes, we've found the area, but we haven't found the entrance," I clarified. "I don't think it's through the ceiling, at least not where we were."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means we'll need to go back to try to find a way to get in," Ron explained. "But, full disclosure…" He glanced at me quickly. "We were caught there today by someone on Fischer's staff."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed. "Really buried the lead."

"We convinced the guy we were just lost," I told her. "But I don't know if we should be found near there again anytime soon."

"I have to agree with that," Harry said, eyebrows furrowed. "They're likely to be watching for you to return."

"Also," I bit my lip and hesitated, but when Ron slightly nodded his head I went on. "I think- well, we think, it might be helpful to have an Appropriator."

A pause met this request. "What's an Appropriator?" Ginny asked.

"It's a magical device that helps to isolate specific types of enchantments," I explained. "We can track magic en masse, and generally categorize it, but it's very difficult to separate one spell from another."

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"We use Appropriators at Gringotts on high profile missions," Ron clarified. "It's basically a more sensitive tracker than our generic spells. Today we hit a wall because we could only find traces of protective magic in a general area. With an Appropriator, we could tune it into a specific enchantment- a powerful cloaking charm for example- and it would help us trace it to the source."

"Jenn could provide one, if the Aurors cannot," I supplied when Harry looked doubtful. "And if we can't get it, that's fine, it'll just take us longer."

"I'll send the message," Harry agreed. "I'm not sure where it'll go, but it's worth a shot."

Seeing the server on his way back, I waved my wand to remove the privacy enchantments, the deep bass of the DJ hitting our ears in full force. After ordering another bottle, Ginny announced we were done with business and dragged us all onto the dance floor, which was already several degrees warmer and more humid. It was full of bodies writhing to the upbeat club music, an activity that put me immediately out of my comfort zone. Ginny, seeming perfectly at ease, led Harry deeper into the crowd before nestling her body into his as they swayed to the beat.

Ron and I loitered awkwardly at the edge of the floor, and though it was dark, I was sure we were both blushing furiously. "We don't have to," Ron said finally, loud enough for me to hear over the music.

I shook my head, knowing we had to keep up some pretenses. "We should."

He held out his hands to me, and I put both my palms against his. "This way?" He asked. "Or do you want to, er, turn around?"

Remembering our intense encounter from earlier in the day, I opted to turn, thinking at least we wouldn't be face to face. What I didn't consider, as he pulled me flush against his body, is how well I'd be able to feel every inch of him like this. He snaked one arm around my waist and ran the other down the length of my arm until he held my hand gently in his own. He began to swing us back and forth and I followed his lead, thankful again I was facing away so he couldn't see exactly how red I was.

We stayed like this for a couple of songs, for my part feeling that with every passing second our bodies melded closer. The dance floor was stuffy and hot, but I didn't dare to say anything, because despite all odds, I didn't want to leave. I pulled my hair over one shoulder, trying to find some solace from the warmth. I shivered in pleasant surprise when I felt Ron's lips slowly kiss down the exposed length of my neck. He had to stoop to reach me, his large form cradling me even more with the move.

 _All for show_ , I reminded myself. _It's all for show._

Feeling emboldened by the convenient excuse, I reached my free hand experimentally, tangling my fingers in his mop of brilliant hair. He responded with a guttural growl, teeth nipping at my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes, taking in the feeling, breathing in his sweaty scent, trying to imprint this moment forever in my memory.

Ron nuzzled his nose against my ear, and my arm lowered so my fingers grazed the side of his face, digging gently into his beard. His breath was hot against me, and I knew one infallible truth in that moment: if I turned my face towards him, Ron Weasley was going to kiss me. Again.

I felt adrenaline coursing through my body, heart hammering wildly as I considered the option. I wasn't sure exactly what the logic behind this display of affection was, but right this second, I wasn't sure I cared. I braced myself to be as brave as I could, and turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes, which dipped down to my mouth almost immediately.

There was a crash, and I jumped out of Ron's arms as I felt cold liquid splash all over my dress and down my legs. A bottle lay broken on the floor and an extremely intoxicated young man was gaping at us with wide eyes.

"'M'sorry," he apologized, looking as though he wanted to cry. "'M'so sorry."

"It's fine." I forced a false smile before turning and stalking off. I needed air. Fresh air. Away from this dance floor and away from Ron.

Ron followed me though, as I knew he would. I found my way back to our booth, where Ginny was curled up on Harry's lap... canoodling. I whirled around, trying to intercept Ron before he saw the scene in high definition, but to my surprise, I found him smiling at our friends softly.

He met my inquiring gaze, and shrugged. "I love them together," he admitted, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and looking abashed. My heart, already pushed to its limits of emotion for the evening, pulsed as another bout of complicated feelings rushed through it.

"Can you tell them good night for me?" I sputtered, leaving Ron looking surprised. I grinned half heartedly. "My dress is wet, and I'm tired."

He nodded, and I left the bar, feeling a rush of relief in the coolness of the hallway. I swept my hair into a messy top knot, fanning myself as I began the trek back to our room.

I heard him before I saw him, and I wasn't altogether shocked when Ron fell into step beside me. I glanced at him, but he shrugged and tossed me a lopsided grin, the top of his dress shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. "Told them we were leaving," he said, by way of an explanation.

I nodded, but not trusting myself, continued on in silence. I felt again a pang of surprise when his large, warm hand reached out to encompass my own, and I stared down at his muscular forearm in disbelief. Was he drunk, is that why the sudden display of affection?

"Did we finish the bottle?" I asked him, attempting to suss out how much he'd had.

He gave me an exasperated look. "I haven't been drinking tonight, Mione. And neither have you."

"Right." My mind whirled with the implications, but I found that I had no more courage to draw from, so I stayed silent as we arrived at our room.

He settled onto the couch again, wishing me a slightly awkward good night, and we laid quietly in the dark. I stared into the black for a couple of hours, and despite my repeated urges to speak, I found no success. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I realized with a small lurch of my stomach, that I'd never heard the tell-tale sign of Ron's gentle snores.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to cheesyficwriter for beta-ing again! 
> 
> Thanks to you all for reading and reviewing; comments make the world go round. Enjoy this chapter, and I hope everyone has a great week!

When I woke up the next morning, I had what I can only describe as an emotional hangover. This job was increasing my uncertainty in what I'd previously considered to be facts, and that was not a feeling with which I was entirely familiar or comfortable. Thoughts of Ron raced through my head as I rolled over in the large hotel room bed, finding my eyes drawn like a magnet to his sleeping form, sprawled on the couch. As I watched his chest gently rise and fall, I was overwhelmed with the desire to trace his every freckle with my fingertips.

Stifling a groan, I shifted onto my back, clenching my fists as I stared at the ceiling, wrestling with my feelings. Somehow, over the course of the last couple of days, Ron Weasley had shaken me. I wasn't exactly sure how it'd happened. Was it that he was such a good actor that I was unable to differentiate where the job ended and reality began? Was I so out of tune with my own emotions that it was only in being confronted with his insincere affections that I realized my own? Or, could my feelings just be manifestations of being caught up in the act we were putting on? If we went back to our normal lives tomorrow, would the shine that now seemed to perpetually envelop Ron in my eyes fade away?

This was the very last problem I'd expected to have when Jenn told us about this case only several days ago. I was worried that fake dating might be awkward for us or that no one would believe our act. It never occurred to me that I might… that we might… I blew out a sigh, frustrated. We were best friends; nothing about him should surprise me anymore. I knew how he thought, knew his sense of humor, knew how he was likely to behave in any given situation. Except this situation, apparently, which was as unpredictable as it was new.

If I approached this logically, then really the only change from the status quo was our intent to pretend to be dating. Therefore, I could surmise that our feelings for each other in and of themselves weren't actually any different. I found this vein of logic very pleasing, the knot in my stomach loosening as I arrived at the conclusion. What was different was the scenario in which we found ourselves, not our relationship to each other. I could manage my expectations in that case, surely. When the job ended and we went back to our usual lives, our relationship would also return to normal. No reason for me to fret.

Feeling emboldened, I swung my legs out of the bed, unexpectedly catching Ron's eye. He smiled at me sleepily as he stretched, sitting up on the couch. His fringe, recently swept back so meticulously, was mussed, falling lightly over his forehead, making my fingers itch to push it away. I gulped.

Maybe I'd try to keep a little more healthy distance between us until this job was completed, just in case.

Ron ordered room service for breakfast, and we decided to eat at the small table on the balcony, enjoying the warm weather of the pleasant morning. It wasn't long before Ginny and Harry entered our room, unannounced again. At least I'd made it out of bed before them this time.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Ginny said excitedly as she strode across the room to join us on the balcony. She was wearing a black bandeau cotton dress as a swimsuit cover, and was holding a straw tote bag, smelling strongly of sunscreen. Her sunglasses were on top of her head, and her long red hair was pulled back in a plait.

"We've overthrown your title," she announced, smirking, as she handed Ron a tabloid.

"Our reign was short lived, m'lady," he chuckled, scanning the headline briefly before handing the paper over to me. Gracing the front page today was our friends, sitting on the edge of a fountain, Ginny's legs draped over Harry's lap.

"Paparazzi are fickle creatures, aren't they?" I mused, watching photo-Ginny giggle as Harry pushed her hair behind her ear. "At least you look good."

"And, we have more positive news," Harry said, drawing my attention back to him. "Murphy's approved your request for an Appropriator."

"Really?" Ron's face split into a lopsided smile. "That's great, isn't it?"

"Definitely," I replied excitedly, discarding the tabloid. "That ought to speed up our search significantly."

"So," Ginny announced. "We're going to the pool."

I paused for a beat, trying to suss out her logic. "I'm sorry?"

"We're going to the pool," Ginny repeated, grinning. "The weather's going to be great."

"I'm disappointed to miss it," Harry remarked, and I snapped my gaze over to him.

"What do you mean?"

"Murphy thinks this morning is the perfect distraction for me to slip away and pick the Appropriator up," Harry explained. "Your going to the pool will keep everyone distracted."

"Won't they notice you're not there?" Ron reasoned, "you're the most famous of all of us."

Harry shrugged. "Just talk loudly about how I'm having a lie in. We were at that club until pretty late last night, so no one should be exactly surprised to hear it."

"And where will you actually be?" I asked.

"Murphy's arranging a drop in one of the secluded gardens. I'm just," Harry gestured vaguely out the balcony, which looked over the grounds. "Going to go for a walk."

"Which means," Ginny interjected, bouncing excitedly on her toes. "Pool day. Come on!"

I tried to smile at her, but it was forced. I wasn't looking forward to pool day. I had reasons to be resistant to wearing less clothing than usual around Ron, and it wasn't just my aversion to prolonged sun exposure.

She grinned at me so expectantly however, that I sighed and went to my bag, digging for my pool gear and going to the bathroom to change. My bikini was pink, very simple, and the cover was a cream crochet wrap dress. I cast the charm to cover my body in a layer of sun protectant (which still smelled like muggle sunscreen, interestingly enough) and tied my curls in a ponytail. When I exited the bathroom, everyone else was ready to go, waiting on me.

Ginny led the way out the door, talking excitedly of her plans. "We should be there early enough to get a good spot. They have an adults only pool with a swim up bar, and private cabanas."

Harry smiled at her fondly before wishing us goodbye and casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He disappeared before our eyes, presumably turning right down the staircase to sneak out of the Chateau doors, while we turned left to climb up the stairs.

Ginny led us confidently out of a side door on the third floor which opened onto a large outdoor patio space that caused me to halt in my tracks. Despite my logic screaming that it wasn't possible, I was undoubtedly standing in a rainforest. A rainforest thriving on the third floor balcony of the Lark Chateau.

The trees were dense, barely any space between the thin trunks that shot upwards from the ground before opening into bursts of long fingered leaves high above my head. Twisted vines loped between trunks, covered in a gentle, hanging moss. The vegetation was absolutely sprawling, and grew in thick, complicated tangles of various shades of green. I breathed in the scent of soil and flora, its freshness somehow reminding of Ron.

"C'mon," Ginny said excitedly, though she kept her voice quiet.

I followed her lead and kicked off my shoes, walking barefoot on the soft moss as we followed a winding path through the trees, taking in the lush expanse. I walked in awestruck silence, listening with delight to bird calls and feeling a cool breeze dance over me. I heard the waterfall before we saw it, and I had to crane my neck to try to see the top, which seemed to extend from another deck several floors away. At the base of the falls, a large, natural looking pool of water rippled gently. A few other early patrons were scattered about the space, drawing my attention to the chairs lounging in sunbeams between tree branches. The cabanas and bars were formed out of overhanging limbs, all still covered in the plush soft moss, and I thought I could make out another bar behind the waterfall.

I looked over at Ginny and Ron, both also gazing around, open mouthed at the space. "This," Ron said, crossing his arms and nodding appreciatively. "Is wicked."

I had a hard time disagreeing as we walked around the pool, still gaping at its beauty. I turned left down a path, finding the edge of the trees within a matter of metres. I stepped beyond them, reaching the railing of the balcony and placed my hand on it, reconciling the dichotomy of the view of the vineyards on one side of me with the tall mossy trees on the other. Magic could be a lot of things. In my relatively short time in this world I'd seen it be complicated, diligent, cruel, healing, angry, delightful, lazy, joyous, frivolous, and every once in a while, whenever I was least expecting it, I found an example of magic that was absolutely beautiful.

Only when Ron ducked out of the trees did I realize I'd been standing there, beaming at the sky like an idiot. He grinned at me. "C'mon then, Ginny's found a great spot."

We set up on three lounge chairs, unpacking our towels and laying out. I extracted a book, excited to have an excuse to do something leisurely on this trip. Ginny pulled off her dress and flipped down her sunglasses before laying in the sun, sighing contentedly.

We made it about an hour of relative silence, the siblings talking quietly while I was happily lost in my book, before the inevitable happened.

Ron got bored.

It was easy to tell, though it began inconspicuously enough. He asked me questions about what I was reading, then asked if I could name the trees around us, then he started flicking small rocks at me and looking the other way when I glared over the top of my book.

I finally sighed, exasperated, and put down my novel. "Would you like to do something else now, Ron?"

"Yes, great idea, Mione," he said enthusiastically, jumping up and tearing off his shirt. I was glad I had sunglasses on to hide my eyes, which I was unable to stop from eating up his bare chest, freckled and muscular, as though I were a starving woman. "Last one in is a dirigible plum!" He jogged to the edge of the pool and dove, lightly splashing us.

"Don't look at me," Ginny intoned, not budging from her chair. "He's your fake boyfriend."

I sighed and pulled off my swimsuit cover as casually as I could, opting to keep my sunglasses on to cover whatever embarrassment was sure to befall me. I sat on the edge of the water, dangling my feet in it experimentally. It was the perfect temperature, of course, magically regulated. I slid in carefully to a standing position, the water hitting me just below the rib cage.

Despite the misleading wild terrain, I wasn't altogether surprised to feel the sides and bottom of the pool were of a smooth, manufactured texture. Relieved I didn't have to walk on rocks, I waded towards Ron, who'd been swimming laps lazily. He splashed over to me, a bundle of excited energy.

"Let's play in the waterfall," he exclaimed.

"Play? How old are we, Ron?"

"I'm sure we're old enough to play in the waterfall, Mione," he responded, smirking at me. "Good of you to check the rules though. Safety first."

"I know you can't see it," I said, pointing at my sunglasses. "But I'm rolling my eyes."

"Noted." He grabbed my hand and tugged me gently, so I followed his lead over to the base of the falls, which swirled with small eddies as we drew closer.

"I'm guessing they magically dampen the noise," I said, babbling to fill the silence.

"Why's that?" Ron asked, releasing my hand to reach his out, letting the forcefully falling water plummet into his palm.

"Have you heard a waterfall before?" I asked, holding my hand over my eyes to block the sun as I craned back to look up towards the top again. "One of this size can be nearly deafening. I also imagine they've done something to slow the speed of the water, or cushion the base somehow, since we can stand here without being caught in a current or-"

"Mione, look at this," Ron called, sounding excited.

"What?" I blinked a couple times, lost in my interrupted thoughts as I turned my gaze back to him.

"Come look," he insisted, pointing ahead of him as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Where?" I asked as I waded closer, trying to peek over his arm.

Quick as a snake, he looped his arm around my waist and pulled us both under the falling water, roaring with laughter as I shrieked. I could see his mischievous smile, even through the streams that poured over us, obscuring my vision.

"Ron," I squealed, giggling as I squirmed in his arms, trying to escape. We were already soaked to the bone, but he still held me firmly under the falls.

"You've been trained better than this," he mockingly admonished. _Oh, he wants a spar then, does he?_ Thinking I'd deploy one of the defensive encounters I'd learned, I pushed against him with my legs, hoping the added leverage would break his hold on my waist. My foot slipped on the slick basin of the pool just as Ron stepped into my maneuver, I'm sure attempting to offset what I'd been attempting, and we both crashed into the water as a tangle of limbs.

I scrambled to the surface, sputtering for a breath, and I felt his big hands on my back. "Careful, now," he murmured. "This part of the pool is deeper."

Whether or not I could touch the bottom remained to be seen, however, as I realized that I'd wrapped my legs around his waist at some point during our ungraceful slip. My arms were around his neck, and I was close enough to his face to see every freckle on his cheekbones. I became acutely aware of just how little I was wearing, the skin of his torso brushing so tantalizingly against my own. He kept one hand on my lower back as he waded through the pool, carrying me a few steps until we reached a shallower point.

I jumped off of him as quickly as I could, every inch of my body buzzing from the encounter. "Do you want to check out the bar?" I winced inwardly at the crack in my voice. I'd made the decision to keep some distance from Ron, not to wrap myself around him like a corkscrew.

"Sure," he grinned, leading us through a break in the water to the canteen behind the falls. It was situated on the edge of the pool, with stools in the water in front of a swim up bar, and tables outside of the water, perched near the other counter of the large L-shaped bar.

I perched on one of the partially submerged stools as Ron pulled himself up onto another. I bit my lip immediately, gaze riveted by the beads of water dripping slowly down his muscled chest. I watched the path of one mesmerizing droplet in particular, which snaked down his chest until it got caught in the auburn hair of his naval. I felt myself blushing as I forced my face forward and thoughts away from where that lucky droplet might end up.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender, a short, mousy man with a friendly smile, asked us.

"Coffee?" I asked hopefully, and Ron groaned.

"It's a holiday, Hermione."

"It's morning, Ron," I replied, drawing out his name the same way he'd done mine.

"Mimosa," Ron ordered as an answer, and I shook my head.

"Look at you two, arguing like you're… well us." I looked around for the owner of the voice, finding Flora and Gene sitting at a table on the edge of the water, beaming. Flora beckoned us over.

"Morning," I called, delighted to see them. I caught Ron's eye, finding his eyebrow slightly raised. _Do you want to go talk?_

I gave him a small nod as we accepted our drinks from the bartender. Satisfied, he slid off the stool and began to wade over to where the older couple was seated. I carefully followed suit.

"What brings you here this lovely morning?" Ron asked politely as we leaned against the edge of the pool, sipping our drinks and looking up at our companions.

"Are we too old to enjoy the weather?" Flora retorted, and Ron chuckled uncomfortably.

"She's teasing," Gene interjected. "It's an unruly habit of hers, but you get used to it."

"We're actually just spending a little bit of time here before we go to play tennis," Flora said.

"Tennis?" Ron said, confused. "That muggle sport?"

"Yes, my dear husband is muggle born, and insisted I learn how to play with him." Flora made a show of rolling her eyes.

I bit back a grin, wanting to remain neutral. "Do you enjoy playing?"

"Eh," she shrugged noncommittally. "It's a nice way to be outside at least."

"It's not all that bad," Gene defended. "There's never anyone else on the courts, so at least we don't have to deal with people."

"Really?" I asked, interested. Weren't we looking for areas where magic could be hidden without interfering with other enchantments? Muggle tennis courts would certainly apply. Sure, they likely weren't close in proximity to the other latent magic we'd already found, but maybe it was worth a follow up.

I didn't remember turning towards him, but Ron and I were looking at each other again, and I could see as plain as day on his face that he'd come to the same conclusion.

"Have you noticed anything, uh, odd at the courts?" Ron asked in a would-be-casual voice.

"Odd?" Flora's voice cracked like a whip, and her usually friendly demeanor looked for a second to be ice cold. "Have you seen odd things at the Lark Chateau?"

"It's just that, you know, Harry might like to play," I said, forcing myself not to take a step away from the harmless old woman. Ron's expressive eyebrows were raised again. _Odd behavior._ "He grew up with muggles," I rushed to explain. "But we've been trying to avoid the grounds. If you've seen the tabloids the last couple days, I'm sure you understand."

Gene placed his hand on Flora's forearm, in a gesture I'd describe more as warning than comforting. She glanced at him, then smiled again. "Oh sure, well, nothing of note at the tennis courts. The fences might keep the reporters away from you for awhile at least."

"They seem determined to headline you," Gene remarked, though I noticed his tactics to change the subject.

"I liked your cover more than Harry and Ginny's though," Flora remarked, lowering her voice as though it were a big secret. "I can see they love each other, but the two of you, I just feel connected to your story." She shook her head, smiling at us knowingly. "Reminds me of Gene and I. So much passion."

I avoided Ron's eyes, taking a nervous sip of my coffee. "That's very kind," Ron said, speaking for us both. "Thank you."

* * *

Later that afternoon, after we'd left the pool and grabbed lunch, I found myself curled up in the armchair in our hotel room, trying to read, but actually watching Ron struggle with his boredom. Again.

"How do you live?" I asked him, half exasperated, half amused, as he paced absently around the room, tinkering with everything he could reach. "What do you do when you're alone at home? Read?"

Ron snorted, shooting me a pained look that made my lips tug at the corners. He flopped into a chair dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. "I dunno. Go visit my parents. Get a coffee. Maybe play some Quidditch."

"You can do most of that here. We're literally in a millionaire's club," I pointed out. "There are a ton of amenities. Surely you can find something to do."

"You're brilliant," Ron jumped up, eyes excited. "Where's the map from yesterday?" He dug through a stack of papers on the desk, dropping the ones he didn't need on the ground in a frenzy.

"Ron," I tsked, disapproving of the mess, but he ignored me. He pulled the map out triumphantly and studied it for a few moments before grinning.

"Ok, let's go."

"Us?" I asked. "I'm not the one who's bored; I don't need to go."

"C'mon Mione," he said, striding over to stand next to my armchair and holding a hand out to me. "This was your idea after all."

"That's a bit of a stretch," I muttered, but accepted his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He tugged my book out of my loose grip and marked my page before putting it on the coffee table. "Let's go," he repeated, leading the way out of the room.

I couldn't help it. I smiled. Sometimes, he was just so… Ron. I followed him out of the room and he grabbed my hand again, as though that was a normal thing that friends did, and refused to answer my questions as we traced a familiar path back through the Chateau.

"I thought we weren't investigating until Harry got back," I hissed, realizing how close we were to the magic we'd found the previous day.

"We're not," he whispered back, leading me past the spa to a door at the end of the hall. We stopped in front of the grand double doors, Ron watching me excitedly.

"I'm not sure what kind of reaction you're looking for," I informed him. "I have no idea where we are."

In response, he grinned at me, then opened up the door and ushered us in. I paused in shock, taking in the view. "You told me to read a book," Ron chuckled.

He'd brought me to the library, and an impressive one at that. The room was vast, large enough to rival Hogwarts', but the atmosphere was very different. I'd always loved the school library because it was cozy, dimly lit and full of well loved books. This room instead seemed to be designed into the corner of the building, so the exterior walls were mainly windows that stretched from floor to the inexplicably tall ceilings. The effect was bright, the sunlight filtering in through the glass panes, creating a warm environment. The center of the room was largely open, with plush seating situated around a cylindrical fireplace in the center. Shelves lined the edges of the room, stretching tall enough to defy reason, each ornately packed with pristine books.

"This is the second time today you've been shocked into silence," Ron remarked, and when I turned to face him I could see the glee on his face. "I need to mark the date for posterity."

I swatted at his arm, but didn't bother to answer as I wandered to the self service information desk and picked up a brochure on the history of this room. "Apparently, this library was curated over the past several decades by Fischer himself, and largely focuses on the arts."

"Do you like it?"

Ron looked so adorable in that moment, his sweet face waiting on my answer expectantly. Forgetting my previous self-promise to keep my distance, I crossed to him and wrapped my arms around his middle, burying my face into his chest. "It's perfect," I mumbled into his shirt, but my reaction seemed to please him as he hugged me back.

"Figured you'd like it," he said, voice rumbling against my cheek. "Everything else at the Chateau has been so luxurious, this was bound to be as well. At least, I hoped it was."

I pulled back and beamed at him. "Shall we explore?"

Ron and I wandered around for about an hour, to my surprise as much as his. There were several bookcase ladders, which we wheeled around to explore the upper shelving. That's how I found, on the top ledge in the far corner, a collection of very expensive muggle classics. I pulled a couple down and showed them excitedly to Ron, who I half expected to roll his eyes, but surprised me by admiring their gold leafed pages and asking me questions about Jane Austen.

"I have to admit," I told him as we walked towards the back of the room again to return the books to their rightful spots. "This is my favorite thing we've done at the Chateau so far."

"Really?" Ron asked, hands deep in his pockets as he glanced at me, surprise apparent.

I nodded vigorously, unable to stop my smile. "Definitely," I gushed. "In fact, before today, if you'd asked me to describe my ideal date, I would have said something very similar to this."

I could feel my face heat up as I realized what I'd just babbled, and I shut my mouth quickly, looking resolutely forward. Several minutes ticked by in meaningful silence before I heard Ron's soft voice. "Is that what this is? A date?"

My heart hammered in my chest as I opened my mouth to answer, unsure of what I was going to say. I froze midstep, cocking my head to the side and listening for all I was worth. Ron took a few steps without me, not realizing I'd stopped. He turned around, but I pressed a finger to my lips and he nodded. There it was again: a small buzzing noise, accompanied by a light prickle dancing across my skin. Ron jerked his head over his shoulder and I nodded, following him quietly until the sensation against my skin felt tight and the buzzing was swarming my ears.

Ron cast the revealing spell, and I wasn't surprised to see the cloud of red smoke swirl around us, dancing between two shelves as it rose up, dissipating near the ceiling.

"I think we found the entrance," I whispered, and Ron nodded.

"How did we not notice this protective magic before? It's easy to feel now."

"Maybe I took a different route back the first time?" I said it as a question, and he nodded again, still looking uneasy. "I suppose," I hypothesized, thinking hard, "I suppose the spells might work cyclically, so they're not always as poignant."

"Is that possible?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"In theory," I said carefully, mind whirling. "Weaving together protective enchantments is a tricky business, and the magics all have to work together in harmony. It would make sense if they were balanced so that some become weaker to account for others being stronger. It's likely that they cycle through phases of strength, otherwise they'd collide and the results would be unstable."

"So... you can't always feel this exact enchantment at this exact level of strength in this exact location?" Ron let out a low whistle. "That's a good way to keep it hidden. A patron would just convince themselves they'd imagined it if they didn't feel it again later."

"Good point," I agreed. I checked over my shoulder, confirming that no one else was in the library with us. "I guess we should come back here tonight?"

"Definitely," Ron said. "Once Harry gets us the Appropriator, we can isolate the spells that block the entrance and try to break in."

"These ceilings are really tall," I mused. "I suppose the entrance would be near the top, almost bypassing the floor above us." Ron dug the map out of his back pocket, examining it as I continued to look up at the tall shelves, biting my lip.

"That's not a bad theory," Ron said, showing me the map. "The library is almost directly below where we were yesterday. If these walls are tall enough to skip the floor, they'd butt up against the hidden space, whatever and wherever it is." He frowned at the map, before looking up at me. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" I asked.

"Why is the library crossed out?" He held up the diagram, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"What do you mean?" I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling defensive. "We agreed to eliminate highly trafficked areas."

He was fully smirking now. "And the library qualifies as one of those?"

"Of course it does, Ron," I said, marching away from him, deciding to return the books I still held in my arms.

"Not a lot of people go to the library on holiday," he pointed out, catching up to me easily.

"We're here," I spat, willing myself to ignore my feelings of mingled frustration and arousal that made me want to snog Ron as much as shout at him. "And we're on a holiday. Kind of." The argument was lame, but Ron just smiled and shook his head, folding up the map and putting it back in his pocket.

"You're not like most people though, are you, love?" He'd said it without noticing, but the simple word shot a shiver down my spine.

* * *

We ran into Abella on the way back to our room, and though she was dressed with the same grandiosity as always, something about her appearance was flustered. Her airy dress seemed to float about her as she smiled and twirled her long nailed hands dramatically, asking us if we were enjoying our stay and if she could do anything for us.

Yet, I noticed as I let Ron answer the questions, her normally perfect bouffant was a little more frazzled, her toothy grin more forced, her heavily lined eyes more tired.

I was shocked out of my silence when, midway through an explanation of the show tonight she'd be happy to book us for, her lip split open unexpectedly and bled a bit down her chin, causing me to yelp and offer to assist her.

"Not to worry," she chuckled, mending her lip with a wave of her wand and siphoning the blood off her face with another wave. "Must have muddled the spell earlier! Now, where was I?"

I gazed at her thoughtfully as she continued her sales pitch, alarmed by her lack of consternation over the situation. What could have split her lip in the first place? It nearly had to be magically induced, since the fix was a spell so basic I was sure a witch such as Abella was more than qualified to perform it successfully. Still, that begged the question, what could have caused her injury?

Before I could decide if I should inquire further, Ron bade goodbye and steered us away, so I pushed the thought into the back of my mind. We entered the rooms where Harry and Ginny were waiting for us and quickly made plans for Ron and I to try to break through the enchantments in the library. Tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, party people! If you've made it this far, THANK YOU FOR READING! This chapter is a bit shorter, but I have most of the next one written already, so I hope I can post it in the next few days as a fast follow. 
> 
> This is a big chapter, where some questions are answered and the reason for the name of this fic is revealed. That bit is actually the first part of this story that I wrote and, well... I'll just let y'all read it. :) Enjoy! Let me know if you like it!
> 
> Shout out again to cheesyficwriter who is a prompt, encouraging, grammar correcting badass beta!

I was cautiously optimistic at how easy it'd been for Ron and I to return to the library later that night. It was after one o'clock in the morning, a time we'd selected strategically, hoping that the late night crowd would still be active enough within the Chateau to provide some cover. Harry insisted on joining us, and once he'd pointed out that we were unlikely to get more than one attempt at a break in, it was hard to disagree.

"Our mission is to get past the protective enchantments and find proof of the illicit activity," Harry had reminded us. I'd heard it before, but I let him repeat himself as he paced in our adjoining rooms, rehashing the plans. "Get in, get out."

Ginny was unhappy about being left behind, but she didn't push too hard to join. She'd understood the deal when she'd agreed to the mission, though I felt sympathetic as we closed the door on her worried face. I'd hate waiting nervously alone while my family was out risking their lives too.

A small piece of good news was the tactical gear I was wearing, which was practical dark jeans, a simple tight fitting white top, and a black leather jacket. I was relieved to not be in a dress, and pleased by the inclusion of denim and leather, which I'd learned over the past several years (to the detriment of my wardrobe) were remarkably tear-and-spell-resilient materials.

The library was unlocked, which we'd anticipated, as most amenities in this resort didn't shut down. I supposed there was a higher level of trust in patrons who paid top dollar. We left the lights turned off as Ron led the way back to the same location we'd found earlier in the day. The moonlight streaming through the expansive windows cast long shadows behind the bookshelves, the overall effect quite eerie in the anxious silence. I could no longer feel the prickle of protective enchantments, lending further credence to our earlier hypothesis.

"Do you have the Appropriator?" I asked Harry in a hushed whisper. We didn't need to be strictly quiet, but my nervous energy inclined me towards it.

He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and silver. I accepted it from him, surveying the instrument in my hands. It was shaped like a muggle drawing compass, the kind they used to make perfect circles. It had two pointed legs about the width and length of my middle finger, which were connected on one end by a silver ball. I knelt down and placed it on the floor delicately, where it stood, balancing on its legs.

Looking up at Ron, I extracted my wand and nodded. "Alarm spells first, you think?"

"Definitely," he agreed. I focused my attention on the instrument, weaving my wand over it in a complicated pattern as I thought through a lineup of nonverbal spells. I vaguely registered Ron's whispered explanation to Harry as I worked. "Best to focus on warning and protection spells first. When you start with trying to isolate the enchantment that's hiding whatever you're looking for, you risk setting off a bunch of other alarms. We learned that one the hard way."

The arms of the Appropriator changed their angle to become much wider, one lifting off the ground entirely where it balanced on a single point, vibrating slightly. I sat back on the floor, crossing my legs and pulling out a notepad. I glanced at Ron, who squatted down on the other side of the Appropriator and nodded his head imperceptibly. I tapped the device once with my wand.

The effect was instantaneous. It began to spin like a top, whirling without any other results for several seconds before emitting a series of sparks and noises. Ron called them out to me quietly and I scribbled them in the notebook.

To his credit, Harry stayed silent until the Appropriator resumed its two legged balanced position. "Er, what just happened?" He asked Ron as the latter stood again. I put my notebook down, resuming my complicated wand work over the device as I listened to Ron explain.

"We just captured the outputs of the test. Each of those signals can be translated as a dimension of a spell, which our walking catalog of magic here," he gestured to me, "can use to pinpoint at least the family of magic, if not the exact enchantment."

"Wow," Harry breathed, sounding impressed. "That's dead useful. Why isn't it just a standard tool for Curse-Breakers?"

"Apart from being wildly expensive, it's really only helpful to people when they have the time and resources to cross reference the outputs of the Appropriator," Ron explained, sounding somewhat proud. "Not many are able to store that much information in their brains and recall it with any level of detail."

"Ah," Harry replied. "I can only think of one person like that, myself."

"She really is special," Ron said quietly, and I swear I could hear his smile.

I tried to stop the blush radiating over my face as Ron and I ran through the process five more times, each go-around capturing more information about all the magics that had been cast throughout the room. I sat in silence for almost fifteen more minutes, looking through my pages of meticulous notes and building a profile of the various enchantments.

"Okay," I said, gathering up my notebook and the Appropriator. Ron's callused hand appeared in my view quickly and I gratefully accepted his help as he assisted me to a standing position. "I think I know what we need to do."

"That easy?" Harry asked, surprised.

"At this point, yes," I nodded. "Though you bring up an interesting concern."

"What do you mean?"

"These specific enchantments, while powerful, are not entirely uncommon," I explained, biting my lip as I stared up at the top shelves. "I'm not sure what we're going to find beyond this first step, but we should be expecting more. I don't think Fischer would leave it at this."

"Why wouldn't he just throw more firepower at the spells here, in the library?" Harry inquired. "If what he's guarding is so secretive, why chance it?"

"That's why," Ron chimed in. "He wants to keep it a secret. The more powerful and rare spells are, the bigger traces they leave behind. It's the trade off of magic."

"So if Fischer were to up the ante on the enchantments in the library," Harry reasoned slowly, "then he'd be signposting to the world that this is where to get into his secret lair."

"Yes," I confirmed.

"Got it." Harry nodded seriously.

"What do we need to do, Mione?" Ron asked.

"I've curated two precise lists of counter spells," I said, beckoning for them to follow me as I walked. "They must be incited in this exact order," I brandished the notebook, "And timed so they're completed simultaneously. Grab a ladder."

Harry looked confused for a moment, though Ron walked purposefully towards one of the rolling ladders we'd discovered previously and wheeled it over. Cottoning on, Harry grabbed one as well and I pushed a third back towards where we'd started.

"We need to go up to the top to perform the spells, I think," I said as we secured the ladders against the tall shelves. "I'm not sure where exactly the entrance will be, but the closest person will need to keep it open until the others can get there."

The two men nodded at me, and I was transported briefly back in time, back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when those same pale faces, sixteen years younger, nodded just as seriously while I instructed them on Polyjuice Potion.

"Hermione?" Ron called. I shook myself out of my reverie, finding them both at the base of their ladders, ready to climb.

"Here Ron," I said, pulling a sheet of paper out of the notebook and handing it to him. His fingers grazed mine, leaving burning traces on my palm as I hurried back to my own ladder. We climbed to the top, each perching ourselves on the uppermost rung. I felt the familiar and uncomfortable clamminess of my hands that always arose when I was at this height, but forced myself to breathe through it as I examined my own list of spells.

I caught Ron's eye, and gestured to his hand where the now crumpled page was still tightly held in his fist. He looked over it and nodded, the moonlight accentuating the angles of his face.

"Ron and I are going to begin, and we'll need a few minutes to go through it all," I said, and though I was talking to Harry, my gaze had never left Ron's. "Just sit tight, and try not to interrupt unless necessary."

"Roger that," Harry said.

Ron winked at me, a smile curving one side of his lips. I licked my own and then nodded. We began to mutter furiously, waving our wands in slow, deliberate, elaborate patterns. I kept one ear on him, catching keywords to indicate to me how far along he was in his incantation, adjusting my own tempo to align with his. We'd done this countless times, the complexity of the detailed coordination being exactly what made us such good partners.

As I neared the end of the first spell on my list, I held out my hand, dropping my fingers one by one until I made a fist. We both transitioned to our second spells, staying in rhythm and following the other's pace. The air around us began to shimmer, crackling gold like tiny fireworks. After the third spell, my skin began to feel stretched and dry. I lifted my hand for the last spell, feeling a snap in the air, as though a rubber band had been broken against my skin. Our murmured chanting ended just as the bookcase behind Harry began to rumble, causing Ron and I to both dash down our ladders as quickly as we could.

The second shelf from the top started to glow faintly, the books displacing themselves like startled birds and settling into nooks on different ledges. The now empty shelf let out a low groan before the back of it opened up completely, just as Ron started to climb up Harry's ladder.

"Hold it open, Harry," I called as quietly as I could, following Ron's rapid climb. Harry, very obviously unafraid of heights, perched himself precariously on the ledge and cast a shield charm in the opening. Ron, arriving first, edged off the top rung and army-crawled through the hold in the bookshelf. Ignoring the twist in my gut at stepping off the ladder, I followed suit, with Harry in short succession.

I would have fallen to the floor had Ron not been there to catch me, the opening dumping us about midway up the wall in a hallway. His strong arms latched underneath my own as he pulled me out of the wall, leaving me softly on my feet before turning to help Harry. No sooner had the latter cleared the hole than it disappeared entirely, leaving a blank wall in its place. I stared at it mutely.

"Here's to hoping we can find our way out, then," Ron said amiably, rubbing his hands together. "What next?"

I spun in a circle, analyzing the hall in which we found ourselves. It was well lit, and though not very large, quite clean and modern looking. The floor was tiled, the paint seemed new and unscuffed, and the pristine white ceilings were of average height. It stretched indeterminately in both directions, and I whipped my head back and forth, searching desperately for a clue, finding nothing.

Feeling alarmed, I caught Ron's eye. He took a deep breath, his silent indication for me to do the same. I followed his lead, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through my body.

"What do you reckon?" He asked Harry, who'd been similarly viewing our surroundings.

"This way?" He suggested, pointing to his left.

"Why, did you see something?" I asked eagerly.

"Nah," he shrugged. "We just can't stay here, can we?"

"Works for me," Ron agreed, and he led the way down the hall. I was momentarily stunned by their decision making process, but shook it off and followed suit. I had to admit, any decision was better than no decision. The longer we stood there, the more likely we were to get caught.

We walked for a few minutes through the monotony of the hallway, until I could see ahead of us that the flooring changed to a checkered pattern. As we approached the edge of the new tile, I noticed large metal contraptions lining the wall on both sides, mounted every couple of feet.

"What do you think they do?" Harry asked, eyeing them cautiously. I frowned as I stared at them, trying to discern any clues about their purpose. I pulled off my leather jacket, rolling it into a ball before levitating it across the boundary. As soon as it passed one of the intricate mechanisms, a long tendril of magic cracked across the room like a lightning bolt, briefly touching the wall on the other side.

We stared at my now crispy jacket, violently thrown halfway across the room, smoking slightly as small chunks of charcoal fell off of it.

"What about the Appropriator?" Ron asked, breaking the intimidating silence.

We agreed it was worth a shot, so Harry handed the item over and I sat it on the ground, prepping it for use. When Ron knelt down across from me, I tapped the top of the spidery object, holding my breath. Nothing happened.

I let my breath out, disappointed, but not altogether surprised. I met Ron's eyes. "They're magicked objects." He nodded tersely. We both stood and I handed the Appropriator back to Harry.

"What does that mean?" He asked, tucking it into his pocket.

"The Appropriator can search for information about spells or curses that have been cast in a given area, but it can't capture information about objects that have been forged with magic. These devices," I gestured at the large metal objects mounted to the walls. "They were bespelled every step of their manufacture. The only way to unspell them is to disassemble them, and reverse the magic process step by step. Likely Fischer bought these from someone on the black market, and they were delivered ready to be installed."

"Can we destroy them?" Harry asked.

"I think we'd risk setting off an alarm," Ron answered.

"Or at least, causing enough noise to be caught," Harry agreed, gazing thoughtfully at the mechanisms.

Ron rubbed at his beard. "How do you reckon Fischer's minions get past here?"

"A blood spell, would be my bet," I guessed. "When they're onboarded, they probably have to donate a few drops of blood so all the security around here just lets them bypass. It would be the fastest way to regulate entry, though quite crude."

"Do we just run for it then?" Harry asked, rolling his neck as though bracing himself. I traded glances with Ron.

"Yes," I replied softly. "I think we do."

"Right," Ron took charge, positioning me in between them. "We'll stay at your pace, Hermione. Harry, you cast a shield charm on that side; I'll cast one over here. Mione, keep one held up overheard if you can, just to be safe."

We stood at the boundary, eyeing the mechanisms warily.

"This can't be the best way," Harry muttered, and Ron chuckled darkly.

"Mate, you'd be surprised in Curse-Breaking how often the answer is to just outrun it."

"Ready," I breathed. "Let's go."

We set off across the space at a brisk jog. I shot my wand up straight above my head, casting the strongest shield charm I could manage. The lightning magic was flinch worthy, cracking loudly at us from all angles as it exploded against the side of our charms in bright bursts. We made it almost two thirds of the way when the plan fell apart.

I had no warning, only felt my body ricochet violently to the right, sending me sprawling to my knees. A sharp pain erupted in my side, and I clutched at it with my hand, forcing myself to recast the shield charm, wincing as the lighting boomed against it.

I pulled my hand from my side, grimacing at the amount of blood. Trying to ignore the pain, I stayed low to the ground, looking around for Ron and Harry. I couldn't see much without repositioning my body, a feat which I was unwilling to attempt since I wasn't sure of my orientation to the lighting devices.

"Crawl," I heard Ron's voice, full of panic but strong. "Crawl to the end, it's not that far."

I maintained a firm grip on my wand, keeping my charm up as I began to wiggle on my stomach across the room. Vaguely, I realized that my shield would only protect me on one side, but I continued to hold it as strongly as I could.

"Hermione." Someone was shouting, but it was becoming very hard to hear. Even the lightning cracking over my head had diminished in sound, becoming muffled, as though I were underwater. I thought I could smell the acrid odor of burnt hair. I tried to focus on my task, of saving my own life, of pushing my body to move forward, but the tunnel in my eyes was narrowing, black on all sides.

* * *

What no one tells you about dying is that it doesn't happen right away. I left my body, which I was sure was lifeless, lying on the ground, but I could still see the world around me, like watching television on mute. I observed in an eerie silence as Ron and Harry, both already clear of the security, threw up their charms and dove back into the lightning storm. They sprinted to my body, which lay collapsed in a heap of blood, a short trail streaming behind me from the distance I'd managed to crawl. Ron picked me up, holding his consistent shield, and the two men raced back out.

I saw Ron's lips move soundlessly, healing the wound in the side of my body, which stretched from armpit to hip and had soaked my shirt a sickening crimson. Harry checked my pulse, frowning, and cast more spells over my torso.

I was sure I was standing next to Ron, yet I somehow knew that I was also nowhere near. He pulled my body into his lap, sobbing hysterically over my prone form. I wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from his cheeks, though I was sure that I couldn't cross the divide between us. I tried to soothe him, to tell him everything was ok. Even in my own ears my voice was lost in the expanse, along with all other recognizable sounds. Despite the sobs wrecking Ron's body, all I could hear was immense silence.

Harry sat back on his heels, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. He touched my head gently, then laid his hand on Ron's shoulder.

 _So quiet it's deafening_ had never meant so much to me. I felt my own tears, descending my cheeks in trails, and I knew that they couldn't possibly exist. I didn't exist. Yet here I was. I fleetingly wondered if I'd be trapped in this endless void forever. Wasn't I supposed to move on when I died? Why was I still here? Faintly, as though thinking about it had caused me to become aware of it, I felt the slow, weak beats of my heart in my transitory chest. I'd never noticed the sensation before, of blood pumping to the extremities of my body. I dragged in a breath, noticing again the profoundness of the silence around me.

As if in slow motion, I reached for Ron, the sensation in my chest changing to a dull ache. I'd never been afraid of dying. I was floating, or maybe standing, in an ephemeral plane, unable to talk or feel or hear, and yet… I wasn't afraid for myself. I was terrified for Ron. That he'd be attacked and die while mourning over my body. _Get up_ , I wanted to shout at him. _You'll get caught if you stay here_. But there was nothing. Only silence. Dimly, I saw a light off to the right of me, and I instinctively stumbled a few steps towards it. That's how I left this void, I was sure of it. The light looked pleasant, warm. I welcomed it.

 _Ron._ I whipped around, reaching out for him again, unsure of how I was managing it without real hands. How could I just leave Ron? I stretched my fingers across inches and miles, trying to touch his face one last time. To remember him as much as I could before I left this place. I watched his mouth move as he spoke to my body, and I strained to see the shapes his lips were making.

I instinctively knew my heart was still slowing. Slowing. Slowing.

I peered at his mouth desperately, vaguely wondering why I didn't spend more time kissing those lips. I watched him push my curls off my body's face, tears dripping off his long nose. I fought the pull of the light, forcing several stuttering steps back towards him. If this was the last thing he was ever going to say to me, I was determined to know it. I stood, separated from him by everything and nothing, watching his mesmerizing lips form words.

All at once, so loud it was jarring, his whisper tore through my endless prison. _I love you._ The words echoed around the void, like shouting into a canyon. They bounced and crashed, overwhelming me, bringing me to my knees. The warmth of the light disappeared, and I was spinning. Or maybe I was standing still, and the world around me was spinning. It was so hard to tell.

I wanted to close my eyes, but I thought I might be forever lost if I did. I searched desperately through the flashing streaks of color and latched onto the image of Ron's face. _Go there_ , I thought. _That's where you want to be._ I struggled to my feet and kept my eyes locked on his face, too afraid of losing his image to even blink.

After a few staggering steps, his point of focus changed. He was gazing into my eyes. Not my body's eyes, but my real eyes. My heart leapt. How could he see me? His face was streaked with tears, and he brushed my cheek softly, whispering sweet nothings. I couldn't hear what he said, but the reverberations of _I love you_ still shook around me, the only sound in the expanse. I limped towards his face. _To Ron. Always to Ron._

With the last of my remaining strength, I reached out, fingers inches from his cheeks.

Then I woke up.

I could feel his arms tight around me, hear his quiet cries. I smelled him, the scent musky and sweaty, but so distinct. I took several moments to readjust to this world, to all the sensations. The sweet burning of air in my lungs, the pain of the recently healed cut down the side of my body, the dull ache in my head behind my temples. My left knee was sore, my body felt grimy, and I was unexpectedly cold as circulated air ran over my bloody clothes.

It was all so perfect.

I opened my eyes slowly and could only see Ron's shoulder as he held me tightly to him. I slowly squeezed him back, whispering in his ear. "Don't cry Ron, I'm ok."

He yelped and jerked me away from him, holding me at arm's distance. I hissed in pain at the sudden movement. Harry jumped to his feet, panic in his voice as he shouted. "What is it? Who's there?"

Ron ignored him as his eyes, wide with absolute shock, surveyed me rapidly. "Wha? How?"

I gave a half shrug, too tired to explain it all now. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

He began to cry again and pulled me back to him, holding my head with one hand as he kissed my cheeks and forehead, beard scratching my skin gently. "Oh fuck Hermione. You're alive. You're alive." He kept murmuring his disbelief and relief and I hugged him back thankfully, so pleased to be in his arms. I ran my thumbs over his cheeks, trying to wipe away the tracks of tears.

Harry turned very slowly on his heel, his face absolutely stunned as he gazed at me. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around both of us and burying his face in my hair.

"I think it was your healing spells," I said thoughtfully, trying to piece together my disjointed experience. "I was bleeding out, but I never... I could feel my heartbeat, even when I wasn't here."

Ron released his hold on me, more gently than before, to hold me at some distance again. Harry pulled away too, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What do you mean, when you weren't here?" Ron asked, looking anxious.

"I think… I think I was dead. At least for a moment."

They both looked as confused as I felt, although Ron seemed to decide that now wasn't the time to discuss it. "I don't care where you went, as long as you're back."

I smiled at them, reaching my hand out for Harry and squeezing his affectionately. He gave me a wobbly grin. "I would have missed you both, so much."

Apparently hitting his emotional limit, Harry rose to his feet and walked to the doorway. "I'll see what's ahead," he whispered as he disappeared through it.

Ron didn't budge, and I became very aware of how intimately I sat in his lap, both of us bloody, sweaty, dirty as he leaned back against the wall and held me in his arms. His eyes seemed to drink me in tirelessly as we sat in the quiet, staring at each other. The silence was different now. I remembered the impact of his _I love you_ as I stared into his sky blue eyes, brimming with emotion as vast as the endless void I'd just been stuck in. I licked my lips, utterly lost at how to begin to express myself, to communicate the profound depths of emotion.

Distantly, I registered Harry's alarmed voice calling to us. We continued to stare at each other for a heartbeat, then I said quietly. "I think we'd better go."

He nodded, and we stood up gingerly, helping each other unfurl our sore and tired limbs. He pushed a curl behind my ear, then ripped his gaze away from me to survey the doorway. "Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This is the last big chapter. I have one more short, fluffy epilogue for you and then this story will be fin. Thank you so much for reading, and let me know your thoughts!
> 
> A big thank you again to cheesyficwriter, who's been an absolute gem of a beta.

We stepped through the doorway, finding ourselves in another hallway. Harry, hidden behind a large pillar, gestured at us frantically as I heard voices coming around the corner. Ron and I ducked back from where we came, each standing on either side of the door, our backs pushed flush against the wall. I kept eye contact with him as the voices neared, breathing as quietly as I could.

“I think you will be very pleased with our services, Mrs. Green, you needn’t worry.” The distinguishable click of stilettos echoed down the hall.

“Yet, I find myself extremely worried, Abella,” a scathing voice replied. I felt my eyes widen, a mirror image to Ron’s reaction, recognizing the voice immediately, though its tone was quite unfamiliar.  _ Flora _ . “Gene and I have heard only of the professionalism of this establishment before our trip here, never of its inadequacies.”

“I hope that after tonight, your faith will be restored,” Abella said, her cheerfulness sounding forced.

“It’d better be.” Gene this time. Their voices and footsteps sounded louder than ever, and I knew they must be passing us, only a few feet away. “Otherwise Fischer can consider our business lost.” 

“I can assure you, Mr. Fischer holds your business in the highest regard,” Abelle cooed, her voice growing fainter. “This is why he’s arranged for your private tour of his personal collection.”

Her clicking heels rounded another corner, though we maintained our positions for several more seconds. I crept out of the doorway again, finding that Harry had already moved down the hall and was peering around the bend. He glanced over his shoulder at us, pressing a finger to his lips. 

We crept over to Harry quietly, and I stayed behind him despite my growing curiosity about what he was viewing. I opened my mouth to hiss a question, but Ron reached over to my face, tucked a curl behind my ear, and shook his head silently. I grimaced, but stayed quiet for several long minutes, hearing only the faint murmurings of distant voices and then a door slam. 

Without another word, Harry surged into the hallway and I jumped to follow. We walked quickly and quietly down the length, which terminated in large golden double doors.

“Abella pulled this to open it,” Harry said, gesturing to a golden lever about the length of a broomstick, sunken into the ground on a track.

We stared at it, and I was sure the red of the blood still staining my shirt was a painful reminder of what had happened the last time we’d dove head first into danger. 

“We have to know what’s back there,” I whispered, gesturing to the ornate gold.

“What if they see us walk in?” Ron demanded. “This is hardly a small entryway.”

We stared at the lever in silence again. 

“Well honestly,” I scoffed. “What are we going to do? Leave?” The mingled feelings of trepidation and adrenaline were making me impatient. 

“She’s right,” Harry murmured to Ron, who looked pained.

“She usually is,” he said, resigned, and reached out a hand to grab the lever. Ron pulled on it, but nothing happened. Looking surprised, he grabbed it with both hands, bracing his feet and pulling harder, but it barely budged.

Distantly, I heard alarms ringing in the hall behind us. I cast a few spells, hoping to speed along the process, but the lever continued to move at a snail’s pace.

“Little help?” Ron asked, and Harry began to push from the other side.

The alarms sounded closer, and ignoring my friends’ cries of outrage, I sprinted back down the hall, peering around the corner. A dozen orbs floated down the hall, flashing colors and wailing, each about a foot wide. As if it knew where I was, the one closest to me turned a solid white and shot a spell. I leapt out of the way just in time, then turned to sprint back to the men, cursing. I’d seen Security Orbs like these before. They were a sophisticated but brutal design, able to match life forms against a database of approved personnel. Any living thing not deemed allowable was terminated. 

“Hey Ron,” I called, sucking in air as I turned my back to them and began to cast protective enchantments.

“Yeah?” He grunted, pulling with all his might against the lever as he and Harry struggled to swing it the other direction. They were still only about halfway.

“There are Security Orbs coming towards us right now,” I said as calmly as I could muster, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart against my ribcage. “And before they get here to try to kill us, I just thought you should know something.”

I waved my wand, still adding spells around us rapidly as the floating bubbles slowly rounded the corner. In a synchronized effort, they glowed bright white and began unleashing a volley of curses on us. The pace was relentless, each spell beating against my barrier, weakening it. I gritted my teeth against the barrage.

“Is it more important than the things coming to murder us?” Harry asked, his voice breaking as he struggled with the lever. It was three quarters of the way there.

I cast one last protective enchantment, then threw my body at the lever as well. “Yes,” I answered Harry over the noise of the curses bouncing around the hallway. “I just wanted to tell him that I love him.” 

Both men let out choking noises, although to their credit we all continued to force the lever slowly. I caught Ron’s eye, who was looking at me in full disbelief, even while the muscles in his arms bulged, straining at our task. I grinned, it turning into a grimace of pain as I continued to push on the lever. “Or,” I choked out. “I suppose that it’d actually be more accurate to say that... I love you  _ too _ , Weasley.”

Ron made a noise that was half laugh, half cry as the lever finally descended into the locked position. My protective wards were shimmering dangerously as the ornate golden doors creaked open. All three of us ducked through the door and shut it behind us, leaving us in the dim light and relative quiet of the dark room. 

“I knew you heard me,” Ron growled, pulling me off my feet and into his arms like it was nothing. He crushed his lips against mine, and I returned his enthusiasm, wrapping my legs around his waist and sighing blissfully as his big hands grasped my butt. If there was one thing I’d learned from nearly dying today, it was that I should definitely spend more of my time doing this.

“Oi,” Harry’s voice was strangled. “Is this really the time?”

I ignored him and continued to snog Ron for several more seconds, enjoying the jolts of electricity it sent through my body, heating me up from the inside out. When I finally wrenched my face from his, he leaned his forehead against mine, murmuring, “hold that thought, ok?”

I nodded happily, equal parts terrified and enthralled by the vulnerability in his eyes.

When Ron put me down and we turned to Harry, he only gave us a bemused expression. “Ginny is going to be so pissed she missed this.”

We ventured deeper into the room; the only source of light was the moon, streaking down through high windows. In the darkness it was hard to make out details, but the room itself was enormous, reminding me of a museum. Paintings and photos lined the walls in the same style of large ornate frames we’d seen in the rest of the Chateau. The open space was littered with pedestals, various objects perched on each. 

We spread out to investigate. I approached one of the podiums, lighting up my wand tip and examining it. The displayed object appeared to be made of crystal. I read the display card:  _ This one of a kind mortar and pestle is believed to have belonged to Janell Tyrus, the famous 16th century potioneer. It measures and mixes for itself, and is made of Poudretteite Crystal. Estimated value: 1.8 million galleons. _

I did a double take on the price, gasping a bit and taking a careful step back. Approaching the next displayed object, I saw a broomstick perched on a stand so it was displayed at a dramatic angle.  _ This is the broomstick ridden by Geoffrey Schmidt in the 1864 World Cup, where Austria won for the first time. Estimated value: 3 million galleons. _

I kept walking, every time I read one of the plaques my breathing hitched a little more. If I extrapolated the net value of this room, I’m not sure I could fairly put a price on it. This was easily the most expensive place I’d ever been. 

I wandered over to a wall, gasping as I recognized the painting:  _ Poppy Flowers _ by van Gogh. “Ron, Harry,” I called, trying to keep my voice calm. 

They must have heard the urgency anyways, because they both hurried to my side. “What’s wrong?”

I gestured at the painting mutely, waiting for their response. Ron squinted at the plaque before letting out a low whistle. “Fifty million galleons?” His voice was faint, the number astounding. 

“Not just that,” I whispered, my heart beating frantically. “This painting is by a well known muggle artist.”

“So Fischer’s collecting both magical and muggle arts?” Harry asked, brows furrowed.

“Yes, but you don’t understand,” I pushed. “This particular painting was famously stolen years ago, and never recovered. As far as the muggles know, it’s still missing.”

The implications of my words sank over them, Ron shaking his head. “So... Fischer is stealing and hoarding art?”

“From the looks of it,” Harry nodded, his gaze flitting over the entire room. “Arts, objects, antiques, there’s no limit.”

“He calls himself a collector.” 

I was so startled, Ron had to extend an arm to stop me from crashing into a vase that was worth more than I’d ever be. Harry had moved in front of us, drawn his wand, and pointed it at the woman who’d spoken before I could even regain my balance.

“I will give you until the count of five,” he growled in warning.

The woman stepped into a beam of moonlight, stirring her name from my lips. “Abella!”

She bowed her head slightly, though her gaze didn’t leave Harry’s still extended wand. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Why’re you here? What’s going on with Flora and Gene?” Ron asked, his fingers still wrapped around my forearm, tension palpable.

“Not here.” Her eyes flitted around the space nervously. “There’s a small office through that doorway.” She pointed gracefully, the effervescent gown draping down her arm. Harry didn’t move, and I held my breath, waiting on his lead. “Please.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “He’ll be back any minute. We need to get somewhere safer.”

Harry nodded tersely, gesturing for her to go first. Abella led the way to the door, opening it and slipping in. We followed in tense silence, and when I closed the door behind us, I found that the office, though small, was well organized. A large desk took up most of the space, files stacked neatly and pens lined up perfectly next to a pile of documents. 

“What is this?” I asked, looking around.

“This is Fischer’s office,” Abella answered. “If you’re looking, as I suspect you are, for evidence of his…  _ work…  _ you’ll find it here.”

“And why,” Harry said through gritted teeth, his guard still up, “would you tell us this?”

Abella opened and closed her mouth, taking a deep breath. Her fingers wriggled restlessly at her sides, long nails flashing in the light. “Like I said,” she finally spoke. “Fischer’s a collector. You were right when you said before there was no limit to what he has in here,” she nodded at Harry. “He considers me to be part of his collection.”

“You?” I asked faintly, lowering myself into one of the chairs by the desk. “He collected… you?”

“That’s bloody disgusting,” Ron snarled, his face contorted in revulsion.

Abella nodded, no humor in her sardonic grin, which was tight lipped. “Why?” I asked. “How?”

“How?” She repeated my question, as if to herself. “Mostly magically, through a modern version of an old enslavement spell, similar to the magic that ties house elves to their masters. Oh, I don’t have to punish myself,” she said, catching the look on Harry’s face. “I have some degree of freedom to do as I please while I’m here. But I cannot leave the property of my own volition.”

A stunned silence met this proclamation. “Does he hurt you?” I asked quietly, remembering her bloody lip.

“Not physically,” she said darkly. “At first, when I refused to play his game and pretend to be a happy employee, he used a jinx that wouldn’t allow me to eat until I did as he asked. I was very frustrated that such a simple thing broke me. I am not inept, you know.” Her face flashed with anger. “But he already had a sample of my blood. Blood sorcery is old, powerful magic, very difficult to break or out maneuver. Eventually, I fell into a pattern of doing just enough to avoid the jinx.”

“I’m so sorry,” I lamented. “Did he… does he…” I wasn’t sure how to ask the painful question, of if he’d used her any other way, but she was already shaking her head.

“Don’t forget,” she answered darkly. “I’m part of his collection. He wouldn’t ride a priceless broom anymore than he’d ride me. His want to keep me here is one of pure obsession. A need to hoard the rarest items, both muggle and magical, that he can find.” She laughed wryly. “My injury earlier was from an attempted escape.” She shook her head. “I was an idiot. I haven’t tried to escape in a long time, but I’d been hoping he was distracted enough by you, that I could break through the enchantments and leave the grounds.” Her face clouded. “I was wrong.”

“How are you rare?” Harry asked, and though he still gripped his wand tightly, he’d lowered it to his side. “Why does Fischer want to collect you?”

She tilted her head, bouffant cutting a pristine silhouette. “I’m not human. At least not completely. I’m part fairy.”

Another stunned silence befell us. “Don’t be daft,” Ron choked. “You can’t be part fairy.”

Abella swept her arms wide, grinning toothily, and suddenly the question of her existence made more sense: her flirty nature, her effervescent charm, the strength of her magic. Ron caught my eye, his own widening at what he saw there. “Come off it, you’re not serious.”

I nodded slowly, remembering a nugget of history stored in my mind. “I think I am,” I replied, and Abella curtsied cheekily. “It’s just that, we learned in History of Magic about wizards who experimented on genetics, hundreds of years ago, remember?” From their blank expressions I knew they did not, so I kept talking. “It was outlawed really quickly, as the lines of ethics were blurred almost from the start, but it’s possible that someone now, a couple generations later, could still have the slightest touch of fairy in their bloodline.”

Ron turned his gaze back to Abella, gaping like a fish. “Barmy.”

“Charming,” she replied, looking amused, but her demeanor deflated quickly. “I don’t know how Fischer found me, but I was contacted by a recruiter saying that there was an opening at the Lark Chateau and would I be interested? I interviewed, I thought Fischer genuinely liked me, and I signed the paperwork to work here. It was a couple months before I realized I couldn’t leave, and a few more after that when I resigned myself to this fate.” She looked up at us, eyes wide. “I never told him about my bloodline, but I didn’t have to. He definitely knows what I am. He knew what I was when he hunted me down and tricked me into working here.”

“And why would Fischer be distracted by us?” I asked her slowly, remembering her earlier comment. “You said that was why you tried to escape.”

She blanched a bit, but recovered and spoke with a defiant voice. “He doesn’t believe for a second that you’re here on holiday. This establishment might look glitzy on the outside, but anyone who’s anyone knows that people only come here for one reason.”

“What’s that?” Ron inquired, but I beat Abella to the punch.

“He doesn’t just collect, does he?” I asked, and she shook her head. I glanced at Ron. “He also sells. That’s why Flora and Gene were down here earlier. They must be trying to buy something illegally and he’s helping procure it, for a tidy sum by the looks of things. He has a very affluent client base.”

“That’s why he said he wanted to ‘make himself available’ to me,” Harry said, realization dawning. “To see if I was looking to buy.”

Abella nodded again. “When you didn’t take him up on the offer, he became suspicious that you’re here on Auror business. Which it seems,” she gestured around. “That he was right.”

“Where are Flora and Gene?” Ron asked, and with a jolt I realized that I’d forgotten they were down here as well.

“I left them with Fischer to talk business,” Abella said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re on the other side of the gallery.”

I hadn’t so much as seen or heard anyone else, and I realized how large the gallery truly was. “Do you have a book or ledger or something that Harry can have to show evidence of this operation?” I asked. Abella nodded and walked over to the filing cabinet, which opened at her touch. She dug around in it while I turned my attention to Ron and Harry.

“We have to get out of here,” Harry hissed. “Before Fischer finds us.”

“He already knows you're here.” Abella’s voice floated over me and my heart clenched. I whirled around, glaring at her.

“Why are you just now telling us?” I demanded.

“You have time,” she held her hands up defensively, a file clutched in one of them. “You saw the Security Orbs, I assume?” I nodded and she arched her eyebrow. “They inform us of an intruder's presence immediately.”

“Then why can’t I still hear them?” Ron asked. “Why haven’t we been attacked already?”

“They are programmed to stay in the hall while Mr. Fischer has… guests in the gallery,” Abella explained. “For the sake of propriety, of course. He doesn’t want to scare any potential clients off.”

My blood boiled at the reminder of Flora and Gene. The couple had seemed so kind. That they were here to procure illegal art was shocking, to say the least.  _ Maybe not though _ , a nagging little voice in my head purred. Wasn’t their demeanor a touch off-putting the last time we’d encountered them? They were worried about odd behavior, seemed impatient about whatever it was that Fischer was doing for them… maybe they were getting anxious about a deal gone bad, or Fischer not following through.

“How do we get out of here?” Harry asked.

“There’s another door at the back of the gallery, on the far side of the hall. You’ll be deposited back in the library.” Her eyes flickered. “I can’t help you anymore. You’re on your own from here.”

“I understand,” I said, extending my hand for the file. “Thank you.” Abella didn’t move. I eyed her suspiciously.

“Abella,” Harry said warningly.

“I want… a guarantee,” she said nervously, licking her lips. “That I can leave here as a free woman. That’s all I want.”

An ultimatum such as this would have at one point in each of our lives, driven the three of us to the brink of frustration and anger. Instead, Ron’s voice dropped to a low, understanding tone. “When we catch Fischer, and bring him in for all his crimes, I promise that we’ll do whatever it takes to break you of your enslavement and allow you to leave from here.”

I knew that the sympathy and seriousness of his gaze was reflected in both Harry and I’s expressions, because Abella scanned us all and handed over the file shakily. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Harry nodded and walked briskly out the door without further conversation. I followed quickly on his heels. The gallery was massive, but he led us through the shadows towards the opposite corner. The journey was stressful, and I jumped at every moving shadow, every illusion of noise. We found the back exit exactly as Abella described, and, glancing at each other suspiciously, Harry opened the door. The sensation was odd, because looking through the door frame was as though we were looking out of the back of the same bookcase we’d crawled into before.

Harry shrugged one shoulder, then plunged through. Taking advantage of our being alone, even if for a moment, Ron grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. I caught his eye, his nonverbal promises evident to me. We had so much more to come. I squeezed his hand, then crawled through the doorway. Harry helped me onto the ladder, and I descended swiftly. 

We had reached the bottom, clapped each other on the backs in accomplishment, and begun on our merry way back to our rooms when a voice rolled over me, so greasy I was worried it’d leave a trail on my skin. 

“You didn’t honestly think I’d let you walk away, did you?” Fischer emerged from where he’d been hidden in the shadows, flanked by at least ten muscle bound cronies. He grinned at us, cheeks puffy around his deep set eyes. “Naive.”

We froze, midstep, and watched the group of wizards encircle us. We instinctively turned our backs towards each other, set in a defensive formation.

“It’s too late, Fischer,” Harry called, commanding the man’s attention. “We have proof of your actions. If you come in quietly, we can talk about a reduced sentence.”

Fischer barked a gravelly laugh, so merciless it made me flinch. “And then what? Still spend decades in Azkaban?”

“Don’t you think people will notice if the Golden Trio goes missing?” Ron asked, quite astutely in my opinion. “What’s your endgame here?”

“Maybe there’s a tragic accident in one of the wings, an explosion that kills dozens of people,” Fischer said, shrugging as though he weren’t talking of mass murder. “No one would blame me. I might have to move locations and start over, but ultimately my business would thrive.”

“That’s sick,” I said, revulsed by his cavalier attitude. “You’d kill more people just to cover up our disappearance?”

“I have worked for years to get to where I am now,” Fischer spat, eyes wild. “I will not be undermined by the  _ Golden Trio _ ,” he used our collective label sarcastically, “or anyone else so entitled.”

“Ah, but you forget,” Harry said, flicking his wand almost lazily to block an incoming curse from one of Fischer’s minions. “We didn’t get into this position by right of birth.” He reached his hands back for a brief moment, fingers touching both Ron and I’s sleeves briefly, signalling to us in that fleeting moment that it was time to fight. He rolled his shoulder and raised his wand again, resuming his stance. “We are famous, Mr. Fischer, because we’ve fought and survived way worse than you. Stupefy!”

Fischer ducked his curse, but the conflict was on. I fired spell after spell, trying to alternate with shield charms so we had some defense, surrounded as we were in the center of our attackers. Slowly, we eliminated our opponents, scoring key hits and watching them drop. 

I was still covered in my own dried blood, and the fatigue of the day was wearing on me. My defenses were slower than they should have been, my wand arm shaking as I struggled to keep it upright. 

"Keep pushing, Hermione," Ron growled, voice low enough for only me to hear. I nodded, acknowledging his encouragement and redoubling my efforts. 

A small sphere rolled on the floor between our legs, a yellow light on its surface blinking rapidly. I recognized it as a smoke spell, designed to detonate a controlled cloud of gas that would knock us unconscious. 

I didn't have time to do anything except yell, and the three of us dove in opposite directions, trying to avoid the dangerous gas. Having driven us to separate from each other, Fischer's minions closed in mercilessly. The tides had turned in the blink of an eye, and I barely managed to regain my footing as my exhausted body blocked curses, unable to go on the offensive. 

The only good news was Harry, who'd always been impressive under great strain. He cornered Fischer relentlessly, forcing his opponent backwards until his back was literally up against a wall. His beady eyes darted around desperately, searching for an out. 

I needed something, anything to grant me the slightest break in the barrage I was under. We couldn't just apparate away; aside from the wards around the Chateau, I knew Harry would want to see this through. My brain flickered with an idea.

Ron was about five metres away from me, battling three opponents of his own. I took a precious second to cast a spell towards one of the massive bookshelves, hissing in pain as a curse sliced my thigh open, a reward for my momentary distraction.

It'd been worth it though, my charm pushing against the bookshelf like a gust of wind. I kept battling, watching out of the corner of my eye as the shelves tipped precariously and then toppled over, crushing Ron's opponents in one fell swoop. 

He blinked a few times in surprise, taking in the change in events, but recovered rapidly and turned his attention to help me. I was grateful, my injuries burning just as much as my tired muscles. 

"Sacrificing books, are you?" Ron asked me lightly, even as we battled the last two attackers. "You must be devoted to the cause."

"Oh, ha ha," was all I had time to say, before I let out a shriek. A hand closed around my ponytail and yanked me by the hair. I dropped my wand in the struggle, fighting against my unknown opponent as I was dragged backwards several steps. 

"Hermione," Ron yelled, voice desperate. 

I felt the edge of a knife against my neck, hand still tangled angrily in my hair, wrenching my head at an uneasy angle. The coolness of the blade stilled my movements, and I fought the panic swelling in my chest. 

"Put down your wands." It was Fischer's oily voice that came from over my left ear. Ron and Harry looked pained, breathing hard and glaring defiantly. The knife pushed harder against my neck. "Drop them, I said."

The moment gave me the strongest sense of deja vu, which I knew Ron was reliving as well. I found his eyes, like magnets, the pain clear as day in their depths. There was something else too. Confidence. Trust. He nodded at me, and I almost smiled.

What Ron knew, and what I knew, and what Fischer was about to learn, was that when I began hand to hand combat training, this was one of the first scenarios I'd insisted on practicing. I never wanted to feel again the way I'd felt that day at Malfoy Manor, detained in Bellatrix's hands, my friends helpless, held hostage by a knife at my neck. I'd insisted on learning, to the point of perfection, on how to save myself. 

I held my hands up slowly as though surrendering, blubbering incoherently about giving up. I felt his grip slacken a little, just the smallest amount, and I went for it. I grabbed his knife hand with my own, cross my body, simultaneously holding it away from my neck as I stomped on his insole. He gasped, his shock leaving me enough of an opening to rip my hair from his loosened grasp and spin so I ducked under his knife arm, which I still held, until I wrapped it up behind his back, holding it immobile. I kick the back of his knees, forcing him to fall. 

Ron had him wrapped in magical bonds before I'd even let go of his wrist, and as I stood, exhausted to the bone, I watched him writhe helplessly on the soft carpet of the library. A profound silence fell. It was over. 

“Harry,” I called as I sank to my knees, vision swimming with fatigue. “Have the Aurors collect him quietly. I have a plan for catching Flora and Gene, but they can’t know we’re onto them.” 


End file.
